


Red Wolf

by ofcorsetstrash



Series: The Red Wolf [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Fashion & Couture, Hux Has No Chill, Hux-centric, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Politics, Protective Poe Dameron, Rey Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:11:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6198154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofcorsetstrash/pseuds/ofcorsetstrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the Starkiller nearing completion, the LAST thing Hux needs is to be sent by the Supreme Leader to the Core Worlds on some kind of spy mission. That is NOT Hux's area of expertise, thank you very much.</p><p>And if attending cocktail parties and playing nice with the New Republic wasn't hard enough, General Leia Organa's son seems to be a demon from the deepest nightmares Hux never knew he had. Honestly. Can't the tall, dark idiot keep his hands to himself for just one minute?</p><p>Featuring the Terrifying Prince Ben Amidala Solo, General “I have no chill” Hux, Badass Goddess Rey Kenobi, Poe “Definitely not a Resistance spy” Dameron, and Actual Cinnamon Roll Finn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Erythrosine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity, too great for the eye of man."  
>  \- William Blake

High society galas were not the usual thing for General Hux.

 

His element was durasteel, holos of battles, stratagem and numbers. There was no place in his world of exactness and troop movements for rich, swirling color, richer food, and even richer overfed pigs who had never known any labor harsher than lifting a fork. Yet, these were the trenches the Supreme Leader had ordered him to wage war in.

 

_“You will make them think you are seeking an armistice, while you carry out your true mission. That will allow you to move among the Republic Senators and find supporters of the Resistance.”_

 

_“Supreme Leader, may I ask...why me?”_

 

_“Because everyone beneath you has failed in this task, General. And...because I have foreseen it.”_

 

_Hux very pointedly kept his opinions about mystical visions to himself._

 

_“Once you have completed your mission...only then may you return to your ship...and the Starkiller.”_

 

_Hux felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. “As you command, Supreme Leader.”_

 

Thus, General Hux of the First Order found himself trying very hard to look like he knew how to hold a dainty crystal glass and sip at pale, fruity alcohol. Soft music poured through the room, slightly muffling the sounds of banal chatter and twitters of fake laughs.

 

He felt like an island in a putrid, rotting sea of overindulgence. The sooner he completed his mission here, the sooner he could wreak such a destruction that even these lower life-forms would quake in fear.

 

“We are so delighted that you are here, General,” simpered the hostess of the party, a round, soft woman draped in far too many yards of sickly pink silk. “The last delegate from the First Order was not nearly so impressive in his rank, nor so handsome, I should think.”

 

“I appreciate the compliment, Senator Noag,” Hux forced a small smile and a stiff nod. “Though it is likely that you will not have time to get sick of my company. My mission will not keep me here for long.”

 

“Oh, no!” she softly exclaimed, raising a hand to her mouth in feigned distress. “You must at least stay long enough for the Marquis Daenti’s Masquerade. It is the social event of the season! Tell me, General, what is your mission?”

 

“I’m here to negotiate an armistice with the Senate.” The dull conversation was already beginning to wear thin on Hux’s jangling nerves. How in hell was he supposed to maneuver through this quagmire of useless sycophants to find the information he needed? Less than an hour on this planet and already he wanted to run screaming off the balcony.

 

“You know what I think?” said a new voice. Hux acknowledged the newcomer, a thin man in purple finery, with a short nod. “I think the fine General here is after the Red Wolf.”

 

Hux felt his blood run cold, and his fingers squeaked against glass as he tightened his grip. Senator Noag chirped a little giggle and smiled brightly at Hux.

 

“Oh!” she said. “I should have guessed! You are absolutely right, Ambassador, that _must_ be why the General is here!”

 

Hux swallowed uncomfortably. _How do they know?_ “I didn’t realize,” he said slowly. “That any rumors of that nature had reached the Senate.”

 

Both were grinning widely, now. “Rumors, my dear General?” said the Senator.

 

The Ambassador seemed to be immensely enjoying himself as well. “General Hux,” he said. “Everyone in the entire Republic has heard of the Red Wolf. It’s become quite the sensation!”

 

“The sensation,” Hux repeated numbly.

 

“Certainly! Everyone has been speaking of nothing else for weeks, now! So many theories, ideas...the man has become a cultural phenomenon!”

 

“Or woman,” interjected the Senator. “Since no one knows who it is, who is to say the Wolf isn’t a woman?”

 

Hux was beginning to feel quite ill. The Red Wolf. That was the codename given by highest-ranking officers to identify the mysterious person who had been waging a psychological war on the First Order. That is, as far as they had been able to tell, it was one person. It was nearly inconceivable to imagine that a single being had such a vicious intelligence for raiding supply caches, intercepting and redirecting vital transmissions, even infiltrating bases and releasing prisoners. Yet, the incidents kept piling up, making it very difficult for all of the ranking officers to keep their underlings in the dark about their singular terrorist.

 

And now it seemed the Republic knew all about the First Order’s inability to track down and apprehend one man. Or woman.

 

“I heard that the Wolf is actually a Corellian smuggler, using his wits and fast ship to remain in the shadows.”

 

“Pffagh! I heard from a cousin of mine that he was seen on some backwater desert planet rigging a pod race. Said he had the most hideous scar.”

 

“That’s not at all what I heard! I heard he’s incredibly handsome, and wears lots of leather.”

 

 _This,_ thought Hux as he let himself process his situation. _Is going to be more difficult than I imagined._

 

At the time, he thought himself rather lucky that he was pulled from his morbid thoughts by a late arrival to the party. Five minutes later, he wanted to travel back in time and punch himself in the face.

 

“Oooooh,” said Senator Naog, craning her neck in an attempt to see past the other party guests. “He’s here!”

 

“Who is?” asked the Ambassador.

 

“I invited Organa!”

 

The Ambassador’s smile twitched alarmingly. Hux latched onto the name.

 

“Organa? The Resistance General?” What luck that would be, given that the Resistance and the Wolf were most likely allied in some fashion. He made a point of saving several of their pilots, at least.

 

The Senator gave Hux a wicked smile. “Hardly,” she said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “The General’s son. _Prince_ Organa, as he likes to call himself.”

 

The ebb and flow of the party aligned in that moment to let Hux see across the crowded room to the door, and there he stood. Perhaps ‘stood’ was the wrong word. There he _posed_ , reclined against the doorframe. Every person at the party was dressed lavishly (besides Hux, who would give up his uniform on the day they stripped it from his cold corpse), but this man, this _Prince Organa_ , was wearing the most preposterously elaborate blue robes Hux had ever seen. Jewels dripped from his wrists and neck, and dark hair was tucked up under some kind of flowery headdress of a matching color. The man’s face was even painted with some sort of pale makeup, with dots and lines of red accenting details of his face.

 

“Ah,” said the Senator. “He’s gone with the Nabooian style, again. I think it suits him.”

 

The Ambassador made some small sound like someone agreeing under torture. Hux decided that he could get along with the Ambassador.

 

“Senator Naog!”

 

Hux jumped at the sound of that voice. Oh, that voice. Even from the first sound of it, Hux had to keep his arms behind his back to keep himself from twitching his hands towards the neck of the speaker, or perhaps locating a blaster and ridding the galaxy of the sound forever. Organa’s voice was bizarre and uncanny, both deep and not, both soft and piercing, both shrill and velvety. It was a voice to drive a General insane.

 

The Prince crossed the room like a parade, a grand one-man spectacle of mincing steps and exaggerated arm movements. Hux found himself transfixed. It was both horrific and fascinating, like watching a planet collapse, or a droid slowly crushed into scrap metal.

 

“Greetings, Your Highness! I’m so pleased you could make it to my little get-together!” cooed the Senator.

 

Organa took one of her hands in both of his (gloved in the finest silk, Hux noted, and bedecked in even more jewels) and swept a bow over her hand. It looked rather awkward, given how tall he was, hunching over like that.

 

“My darling Senator, how could I resist such a heartfelt invitation? I told myself ‘You must move moons and planets to be by her side that night’...and so-” he gestured to himself dramatically. “Here I am.”

 

The Senator giggled, and looked over toward Hux and the Ambassador. “My dear Prince, you already know Ambassador Stinet of Yavin. Allow me the pleasure of introducing you to our special guest, General Hux of the First Order.”

 

Hux stood at attention as best he could with a glass of wine in one hand and nodded stiffly. “I am pleased to meet you, Your Highness.”

 

“Oh, General, I am most honored to make your acquaintance!” The Prince fluttered his hands in Hux’s direction in an alarming fashion. “I can already tell that you and I will get along splendidly. I have a knack for such things.” Organa simpered. Hux felt like he wanted to throw up.

 

But this was an opportunity. This...person...was connected to the Resistance. To the very top of the Resistance leadership: the General herself. Hux could use him, get close to him and leverage information that could lead Hux to his goal. General Hux could be back on the _Finalizer_ very quickly, if he played this exactly right.

 

“I’ve never met someone with hair like yours, before!” exclaimed Organa, looming into the General’s space and running gloved fingers through his hair before Hux could react.

 

_Do not punch the important contact, Hux. There will be plenty of time to remove Organa’s fingers from the rest of him at a later date._

 

“Please do not touch my hair, Your Highness,” Hux managed to grind out from between clenched teeth.

 

“Oh! Of course!” said the Prince. “Please accept my most sincere and heartfelt apologies!” Underneath the makeup, Hux got the impression that Organa was pouting. “I’ve offended you! I know!” He grabbed Hux’s hand. More non-consensual touching. Hux started listing body parts he would cut off Organa to keep himself from reacting. “You’ll simply have to visit my penthouse! I’ll throw you the best party! Tell me, General, have you had your coming out?”

 

Mortified, Hux felt a flush creeping up his neck and onto his face. “ _E-Excuse me?_ ”

 

“Your coming out! A celebration to mark your proper role as a man! Oh!” Organa was fluttering around again, speaking partly to Hux and partly to the small group of people around them. “Coming out is so satisfying. It allows people to see who you truly are! I enjoyed mine so much I decided to do it four times!”

 

Hux felt as though every eye in the room was on him, every face laughing at him. The _galaxy_ was laughing at him. “I-I…” Hux made himself take a deep breath. “I do not think such a celebration would be appropriate, Your Highness, given my status among the First Order, and...and… My father would not...ah...How-how could you tell?”

 

“Well,” Organa gestured dismissively. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Hux wanted the floor to open up and swallow him, never to be seen again. “The Outer Rim wouldn’t have such fine amenities as to host a proper coming out. In fact, there probably isn’t much of a society to be introduced to!”

 

Something was not quite adding up in General Hux’s short-circuiting brain. “Wait,” he said. “What exactly are you talking about?”

 

“Your coming out, of course! Your debut into society! Your graduation into the ranks of people that one must know!” Organa fixed him with a bland look. “Why? What did you think I was talking about?”

 

Silence reigned in that corner of the room for approximately two and one-quarter seconds. It felt to Hux more like an eternity. Less than two hours on Coruscant and he wanted to order Starkiller to blast the planet into oblivion with himself still on it.

 

“Ah!” said Senator Naog. “My darling Prince, I’ve been meaning to show you that new shipment of fine velvet I just received from Chandrila. It’s just this way!”

 

“From Chandrila?” echoed Organa, sufficiently diverted. “My dearest Senator, please lead the way!”

 

As the self-identified Prince flitted away with the Senator, the Ambassador shared a look with Hux, like the two of them had just survived a firefight. Hux would have much preferred a firefight. “Melodramatic simpleton,” the Ambassador muttered into his glass and sighed. “Such a shame.”

 

“What is?” prodded Hux, still somewhat dazed and recovering from such a titanic level of embarrassment.

 

The Ambassador nodded slightly in the direction of Organa. “The, ah, _Prince_. He comes from such a good family. His mother was a well-respected Senator for many years, adopted into the Royal House of Alderaan. Her birth mother before her was a Senator as well, very influential; she died too young.” He shook his head slightly. “I guess it just goes to show that blood isn’t everything.”

 

Hux excused himself from the party early, citing the weariness caused by long travel as his reason.

 

Back in the simple apartment assigned to him, Hux went through the physical motions of getting ready for sleep, but his mind was plotting. He had never been so humiliated in his life. Organa had stripped and exposed him so easily, Hux felt his cheeks flame anew just at the thought.

 

But General Hux was not easily defeated. This was nothing more than a minor setback. Organa was the key. If Hux could worm his way into the Prince’s confidence, feign interest or even friendship, he would use the fool to crack open the Resistance, find the Red Wolf, and rain terror down upon the Republic in scarlet fire.

 

And _then_ he would kill Prince Organa. Slowly.

  
The last thought in Hux’s head before sleep claimed him was the burning touch of fingers in his hair.


	2. Alizarin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The lion's outside of your door  
> The wolf's in your bed  
> The lion's claws are sharpened for war  
> The wolf's teeth are red"
> 
> \- "The Lion and the Wolf" by Thrice

“I heard from my sister that the Red Wolf is a Mandalorian bounty hunter. And that he hates sweets!”

 

“Well,  _ I _ heard that  _ she _ is actually a Wookie from Kashyyk who owes someone in the Resistance a life-debt. She’s been trained in the art of assassination and knows a hundred and four ways to kill someone with her bare hands.”

 

“That’s preposterous! I know for a fact that the Red Wolf is actually Luke Skywalker!”

 

“You are a fool, then. I heard from Senator Brava that the Red Wolf is a slave who escaped the clutches of the Hutts. The Wolf always wears a mask to hide the slave-brand on his face, and flies a stolen X-Wing.”

 

“You know...there are whispers among the star pilots. They say that the Red Wolf is not even corporeal. They say that he’s the ghost of Darth Vader himself, wreaking a vengeance on the remnants of the Empire that failed him.”

 

“I heard that the Red Wolf is insatiable in bed. That he straps you down and takes what he wants and makes you call him ‘Master’.”

 

Hux was glad that he was not drinking anything during that last remark, but even more glad that Prince Organa  _ was _ .

 

Sputtering and coughing as delicately as he could manage, Organa composed himself rather quicker than Hux would have wished. “Ah, my dear Viceroy,” said Organa. “You will put those fantasies out of your mind…” He waved an effeminate hand in front of the Viceroy’s face and stepped past her. “And turn to a topic of discussion of far greater importance. The Marquis’ Masquerade is only four days from now and I still have not received my finished costume from my tailor! He told me the final alterations would be done far sooner than this. I am inconsolable!”

 

Clothes. They seemed to be the only thing Organa was capable of speaking about for more than ten seconds. Hux had never worn anything fancier than dress uniform, or more simple than regulation shirt and trousers, had never really felt comfortable in civilian clothing.

 

Organa, though, seemed at-ease in  _ anything _ , this afternoon slinking around the ballroom in a figure-hugging thing in a very deep violet, his face done up in white and red once again. And when he moved past the Viceroy, Hux was confronted with a rear view of Organa’s ensemble...or lack thereof. It showed off an alarming amount of surprisingly muscular back, and if the fabric were draped just an inch lower-

 

Hux strangled and shredded that thought before it could see the light of day.

 

Instead, he contemplated the next step he needed to take. Befriend Organa and gain his trust. Hux had never made a friend in his life. He had associates, fellow officers, the chain of command to dictate his interactions with others according to regulation, everything exactly as it should be. The closest Hux could imagine to a friend was someone he could reasonably rely on to not make stupid choices and get other people killed. Like Captain Phasma, for example. She had an excellent, logical head on her shoulders. Hux knew that she would do what was required of her, and do it well. What use was  _ friendship _ to people like themselves? Like Hux?

 

Not that he needed to actually become friends with  _ Organa _ . Hux shuddered at the thought. No. This was something that could be falsified, right? Didn’t civilians sometimes complain about fake friends? That meant that Hux could act as a friend without having to actually go through with it.

 

Satisfied with that conclusion, Hux moved on to the next step. How do people usually make friends? Hux pondered the “friendship” schema in his mind. It was...a bit sparse. The only useful thing he could glean was that friendship was usually built on commonalities, shared interests and such.

 

Alright. This should be easy. Find something,  _ anything _ , that he and Organa had in common.

 

Observed Interests of Prince Ben Organa:

 

  1. Clothing  
  
  
  
Hux evaluated his list and his life choices  
  
  
  

  2. Makeup?
  3. …
  4. Political Schemes?
  5. Talking to people
  6. Being a pain in the ass
  7. Molesting people with red hair



 

Hux made himself take a deep breath. Obviously, he needed to acquire more data before he could put together a plan of attack. Observe the enemy and make note of any weaknesses, or strengths that could be twisted into weaknesses.

 

For the rest of the party, Hux watched Organa. Hux made note of every gesture, every affected laugh, every invasion of someone else’s personal space (there was absolutely no part of Hux that felt a twinge of jealousy at noting that he himself was not the only victim of that). There were the moments Organa seemed more distant, letting other people talk of trade or politics or who was caught having scandalous affairs with whom. It really seemed like the only times Organa would add to any conversation was when the topic turned to fashion. The rest of the time he just listened. Didn’t seem to even really listen, except to catch the next time talk turned to something he was interested in.

 

Organa really was an idiot, it seemed, if he was incapable of speaking of anything but a singular topic.

 

Hux picked at the small piece of food he’d grabbed from a tray. Core world food baffled him, to be honest. This looked like a thin wafer with some kind of pale cream smeared on it, adorned with a few pearly red beads and topped with a single tiny five-petaled flower. Who decided to eat flowers? Weren’t some flowers poisonous?

 

“He’s noticed, you know.”

 

Hux turned to the willowy woman in pale blue that spoke to him. “Pardon?”

 

She nodded toward Organa. “You’ve been staring, and he’s noticed. If you’re that interested, you should just talk to him.”

 

The implication in her words made Hux’s face feel hot. “That’s- that’s not what I… I am not interested in Organa in that way, ma’am.”

 

“Of course not,” she smiled. “Though… he does have a certain appeal, doesn’t he?”

 

“There is no appeal in some pampered, soft princeling who probably takes five hours to dress every morning.”

 

She hummed into her drink and sauntered away, the smirk on her face evident. These Core world dwellers were all delusional, Hux decided. Every single one of them.

 

He’d been standing for hours, he realized. Normally, he could stand on the command bridge of the  _ Finalizer _ all day and feel no ill effects, but in this place, with its gentle sunshine streaming through wide windows and plush carpets underfoot, he felt exhausted. Hux wound through the small gathering and found himself a low couch. He would have much prefered a sensible chair he could maintain his posture in. This offensively comfortable piece of furniture was too short for his legs, and too deep to sit upright. Hux found himself  _ lounging _ … tensely.

 

_ If I relax and close my eyes for even an instant, the universe will arrange for something dreadful to happen. That’s how things seem to be going, at least. _

 

Sure enough, Hux felt like all he did was blink, and there he was, Prince Ben Organa, a herald of doom arrayed in sparkling deep violet, standing right in front of him.

 

“Good afternoon,” said Organa. “Are you enjoying yourself, General?”

 

Their respective positions were...discomforting, to say the least. With Organa towering over him like that, Hux felt at a terrible disadvantage. Especially with those slim hips swathed in clingy fabric right at eye level. “I am having the time of my life, Your Highness,” Hux said with a tight smile.

 

Organa tittered. Hux had never even thought that word could apply to someone in real life, but Organa did it. Fighting down the blush climbing his neck, Hux won the battle against the couch cushions and rose to his feet.

 

Oh. This...was not an improvement. Organa did not step back when Hux stood, resulting in them standing very close together, indeed. Hux hadn’t noticed before how similar they were in height, with just a spare couple of inches between their faces. Hux couldn’t back away with the couch right behind him. Damn. Outmaneuvered by an imbecile. At least no one of importance was here to see his woeful failures.

 

Maybe...just maybe...the woman from earlier had a good point. If Hux couldn’t find common ground to establish a  _ friendly _ relationship, perhaps...another kind of relationship might work just as well, if not better.

 

Hux took a deep breath. Organa smelled really nice. The Core worlds seemed to have very different ideas surrounding sex than the First Order. Hux had...well...never really indulged in that area, his tastes being so different than what was expected of him. No one here seemed to care, though. Maybe, just this once, Hux could-

 

“You think so loudly,” smiled Organa.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“What you want is written all over your face, General Hux.” His voice dropped even lower and softer. “I’ve never been with a military man, before.”

 

Hux cursed his complexion, how easily it would give away his discomfiture with no permission granted. Maybe he should take up painting his face like Organa, to hide such weaknesses, or maybe a mask. He could feel himself blushing, and even worse, the blush seemed to be spreading lower and lower-

 

Hux cleared his throat. “I’ve, um, never met anyone like you, before, Your Highness.” Flirting? How do people? “You...intrigue me.”

 

Organa leaned just a bit closer. Was this really acceptable in public? The Prince brushed a gloved hand along Hux’s shoulder. “Believe me, Hux, your  _ intrigue _ is...reciprocated.”

 

Hux gave the man points for the five-syllable word. “Perhaps...I could pay you a visit? Hopefully soon,” Hux heard himself say.

 

“That would be delightful!” purred Organa. “Oh, it couldn’t be tonight, though, or tomorrow.”

 

“Do you have plans, already?”

 

Organa managed a grimace. Hux was almost proud of the idiot. “A family get-together, I’m afraid. A recurring tradition.” He quickly brightened. “I have an idea! I’ll be back for the Masquerade, so at that time we can further discuss what it is we both want. Is that something that you would like, Hux?”

 

Hux smiled. “I would like that very much, Your Highness.”

 

“Then while we are apart…” Organa tipped his head to whisper in Hux’s ear. “You should practice calling me ‘Ben’.”

 

It was odd, Hux determined, that the couple of days he went without seeing Prince Ben Organa would go so slowly. There was little to keep him occupied at parties with Senators and Representatives from all over the Republic. All of the conversations sounded the same; all of the people looked the same. Even the times conversation veered in the direction of the Red Wolf, there were so many conflicting rumors and theories that Hux found himself tuning out, his mind instead replaying Organa’s smile, his dark, compelling eyes, the whispered words in the General’s ear that made a shiver run down his spine.

 

There was a transmission waiting for him when Hux returned to his room that night. “Lieutenant,” Hux said. “What is it that is so urgent?”

 

Lieutenant Mitaka looked frayed around the edges, like he had been sprinting for hours. “Sir,” he said, voice shaking slightly. He removed his cap and squared his shoulders. “There has been another incident with the Red Wolf.”

 

Hux felt like the air was knocked out of his lungs. “Report,” he snapped, a bit breathless.

 

“Yes, sir. As best we can tell, at 1500 hours earlier today the Red Wolf infiltrated Starkiller base.”

 

Well, someone might as well have just stabbed Hux at this point. It might have hurt less. Starkiller was  _ his _ . “How was this accomplished?”

 

Mitaka blinked rapidly and ran his tongue over his lips. “We are, ah, still piecing together information, sir. There was an arrival at that time of some new technicians and contractors, but everyone who was on record as being on board that vessel is accounted for. We, ah, think he was hiding among them, somehow, given the security footage.”

 

Hux leaned forward slightly. “We caught him on the security feed?” What luck!

 

The Lieutenant made a slightly strangled noise. “Well, yes. Sort of. There was a malfunction in the security system at the time, from 1505 hours to 1942 hours. Every feed was offline. Except one.”

 

Hux frowned. “That’s not possible, Lieutenant. The security system runs on three independent power sources with the emergency backup generators also linked in. Even if something catastrophic were to happen and power  _ was _ lost, there is no way for a single feed to remain active independently. They are all linked together.”

 

“Yes, sir. I agree with you, sir.”

 

Hux rubbed at his aching head. “Alright. Alright. Just...send me the footage and tell me what else happened. What did he do? How did he attack us?”

 

Mitaka nodded, a stunned look on his face. “Ah...he gained access to a control panel and downloaded all of the blueprints for the Starkiller.”

 

“What!?”

 

Mitaka flinched. Hux closed his eyes, took a very deep breath, and held it until he felt like he was going to pass out. Unfortunately, that didn’t take very long. When he opened his eyes, Mitaka’s frightened face let him know that not only was this nightmare not over, but there was probably more.

 

“Lieutenant.”

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Is there any more?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Hux took another breath. “Tell me.”

 

“He escaped in one of our TIE fighters. We didn’t realize he was here until the fighter took off without authorization. We opened fire but he managed to get away.”

 

Hux nodded. “Did he disable the on-board tracker?”

 

“No, sir. We located the TIE fighter abandoned in empty space near the Lucard system just fifteen minutes ago.”

 

Hux sighed.

 

“Also, he kidnapped a stormtrooper.”

 

Hux stared at Mitaka, his mind attempting, and failing, to process what had just been said. “He...what?”

 

“Kidnapped a stormtrooper. General. Sir.”

 

Hux tried again to make sense of the world. The words Mitaka was saying sounded like nonsense. “The Red Wolf,” Hux said slowly, half expecting Mitaka to correct him. “Terror of the First Order, kidnapped a stormtrooper.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Wha- Why?”

 

“We’re...not sure, sir.”

 

Hux settled himself back in his chair and turned the problem over in his head. His mind, ever his best companion, handed him one possible answer.

 

“Where was this stormtrooper usually stationed?” If the trooper knew much about some of the more delicate parts of Starkiller then maybe he was taken to supplement the blueprints, to make the information even more useful…

 

“Ah...sanitation. Sir.”

 

Well, there went that idea. “Sanitation,” Hux repeated. Yes. Truly this was a universe gone mad.

 

“I’ll, um, send you his file. Designation FN-2187. Excellent scores in marksmanship and leadership. Excellent performance in simulated battles, but not yet deployed to any real action.”

 

“Fine, fine,” Hux said. “I’ll go over the file. Just...send everything to me. Is there anything else?”

 

“Um… Starkiller should be completed within a few standard days, sir.”

 

“I already know that, Lieutenant.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Let me know if there are any other developments.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Hux ended the transmission and sank his head into his hands. He did not rage or scream or cry or smash anything. No matter how much he wanted to. Such a display would be unbefitting a man of his rank, his position, his reputation. To indulge would mean admitting defeat.

 

Instead, Hux settled himself in the hard chair and played the salvaged security footage.

 

The image was slightly distorted, but still enough to make out what was going on. A man with messy blond hair and thick glasses walked down a hallway: sector B7, it looked like. His shoulders were hunched, and he nodded awkwardly at passing troopers. With tools from his belt, he started removing the front of a control panel, looking every inch like the kind of repair technician Hux would pass on Starkiller without even noticing. Hux dug his nails into the palms of his hands.

 

The man pulled a small datastick from his jumpsuit pocket and plugged it into the control panel, entering the access code and proceeding to steal all of the most vital information on the Starkiller’s construction. All of the plans. Any weaknesses Starkiller had could be found in that data. The only consolation was that there was so _much_ information that it would take a while for anyone to find the useful parts. Hux felt himself scowling at the footage. How had the man known the access code? That information was never given to anyone ranking lower than Colonel.

 

But then things got interesting. The man jammed the datastick in his pocket and carefully replaced the front of the panel. Just as he finished, two stormtroopers walked towards him. The man jumped, as if startled, though he must have heard them approaching, and he put out a hand to stop them. He stepped in front of one of the troopers, the one Lieutenant Mitaka had identified as FN-2187. After just a few moments, the man waved a hand in front of FN-2187’s face and turned away.

 

Hux paused the feed. There was something about that gesture, that relaxed flick of a hand. It tickled at the back of Hux’s mind. Did he remember it from somewhere? Had he seen someone make that gesture before? Hux played that clip over and over several times, but no answer presented itself. He continued to the last few seconds of the footage.

 

The man walked down the hall, FN-2187 following close behind him, while the other trooper turned and marched the other way. That trooper would have to be questioned, noted Hux. Knowing Phasma, he probably already had been, and she would be sending Hux anything she found tonight. Phasma was reliable, like that.

 

At the last moment, just before he stepped out of sight, the man looked up, directly into the security feed. Those glasses and the fuzzy image successfully obscured most of his face, but there was no hiding that triumphant grin. Deliberately, the man raised a hand in a sharp salute and walked out of sight.

 

Hux nearly threw his datapad across the room. The man knew the security feed was watching him. He was brazen, poking fun at the First Order’s attempts to find him. And that salute...it felt personal, like he was mocking General Hux specifically.

 

Hux stripped off his uniform with sharp movements, imagining peeling off the man’s skin with his bare hands. The Red Wolf had made a deadly mistake, goading Hux like that. Hux felt his lips pull back from his teeth in a vicious smile. He was going to enjoy this, now. Before, it had only been so that he could fulfill his duties and return to Starkiller.

  
Now, General Hux would wage  _ war _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hear that Matt the Radar Technician has an eight-pack. That Matt's shredded.


	3. Acidic Anthocyanins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dear rabbit, my legs are getting weak... chasing you  
> And the snowfields... Wouldn't seem so big, if you knew  
> That this blood on my teeth, it is far beyond dry...  
> And I've captured you once, but it wasn't quite right...  
> So I'm telling you.. That you'll be safe with me."
> 
> \- "I Know I'm A Wolf" by Young Heretics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I knew how to add links in the author's notes. Oh, well.
> 
> If you head to my tumblr, same url as this account name (ofcorsetstrash), I've posted my design for what Ben's Masquerade outfit looks like. I've sketched out Hux's, but I need to fix some details before I color and post it.

_“I will be sending my apprentice to assist you.”_

 

_“Supreme Leader, I do not think that is necess-”_

 

 _“_ **_I_ ** _will decide what is necessary and what is not, General. The Master of the Knights of Ren has access to resources that you do not.”_

 

_“...As you command, Supreme Leader.”_

 

_“Good. Keno Ren will reach your location in approximately thirty-eight hours. That is how much time you have left, General.”_

 

That would be tomorrow, then, the day after the Masquerade. Hux really didn’t want to think too hard on what would happen to him if he didn’t identify the Red Wolf before then. The Supreme Leader wouldn’t throw away a competent General, would he? Hux resolved to put such thoughts out of his mind. Dwelling on that would only hinder him.

 

 _Today_ , however, the day _of_ the Masquerade, felt like the longest day of Hux’s life.

 

His comm beeped at him from his desk as he stepped from the ‘fresher. On seeing who it was, Hux, let out a self-indulgent groan. Making sure the transmission was set to audio-only, he opened the line.

 

“How did you get my personal comm?” Hux said with a grimace.

 

“Oh...a Prince has his ways, my dear Hux.”

 

“I just want to know who you bribed so I can have them executed.”

 

Organa giggled. “May I ask what you are wearing tonight?”

 

Hux looked over at his bed where he had laid out his clothes. “My dress uniform.”

 

Organa was silent for a moment. “That’s all?”

 

“What do you mean, that’s all?”

 

“Well,” Organa sounded slightly put-out. Good. “It _is_ the event of the season. All of the galaxy’s finest will be there. It’s an opportunity for you to be more daring! Be bold! I’d dare say that a dark green would look positively _sinful_ with your coloring…”

 

“Your Highness-”

 

“Ben.”

 

“... _Ben_ , my dress uniform is more than enough for me. Besides, I doubt even _you_ could find something for me to wear in just a few hours.”

 

Organa’s silence was contemplative.

 

“No!” Hux snapped.

 

“But-”

 

“Absolutely not!”

 

“Think of all the-”

 

“I said no! I refuse!”

 

Organa sighed despondently. “Fine. Have it your way. You at least have a mask to wear, right?”

 

Hux glared at his comm.

 

“ _Right?_ ”

 

“I don’t see the-”

 

“Hux! It’s a _Masquerade_! It’s right there in the name! You _have_ to wear a mask!”

 

“I don’t like having my vision impaired,” Hux snarled, hating that Organa could pry out his weaknesses so easily.

 

“I am bringing you a mask to wear.”

 

“That really isn’t-”

 

“Just _try_ it? For _me_? And if you really do hate it, you don’t have to wear it.”

 

“...Whatever.”

 

“That’s the spirit! I will be there in four hours! And...Hux…” his voice took on a breathy quality that made Hux’s insides feel strange. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again. I’ve been...thinking of you.”

 

“...I’ve been thinking of you, too.”

 

“At night? When you’re alone?”

 

Hux scowled at the comm, then down at his treacherous cock. “I...yes...Ben.”

 

“Do you think about the things you want to do with me?”

 

Hux listened to the sound of intensifying breathing for a horrifying few seconds. “Are...are you…”

 

“Tell me, Hux. Tell me what you want to do tonight.”

 

There were very few times in his life that Hux had been rendered speechless before meeting Prince Ben Organa, but the idiot seemed to have a knack for it. _Say something. Anything!_ But Hux’s clockwork thought process had ground down to a dead halt. His mind was a blank white space with nothing in it.

 

“Hux? Are you alright?”

 

How long had Hux been standing there? It felt long enough that surely Coruscant had been swallowed by a dying star by now. “I...ah…”

 

“Hux...do you want this?”

 

Hux swallowed hard against whatever emotion was stuck in his throat. “Of course I do.” That came out much less solidly than he meant it to. “What is it that _you_ want, Ben?”

 

Organa was silent for a moment. “I want whatever it is you want, Hux.” It was strange, but he sounded...sincere. That was not at all what Hux had come to expect from Organa, the man who flirted outrageously in public and couldn’t keep his hands to himself if his life depended on it.

 

“Hux, I’ll be there in a few hours, and we can talk more tonight. I have to go, but… Hux, I know how I come across, but I… I don’t want to hurt anyone. Least of all you.”

 

“Ha,” the very short breath of laughter from himself took Hux by surprise. “As if you could hurt me.”

 

“I’ll see you tonight, Hux.”

 

“Until tonight, then… Ben.”

 

The comm went quiet, the connection terminated, but Hux felt like Organa was there in the room with him. His skin itched, prickly and pulled tight. He needed to get out for a little while.

 

Dressed in the most nondescript clothes he had, Hux ventured out into the vast metropolis of Coruscant. The planet was unfathomable to the General. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, such a massive amount of sentients, all packed together so densely, stacked on top of each other up through the atmosphere. It made him feel small, looking up at the sky-scraping spires. He was just one man, after all.

 

One man who designed the Starkiller. One man who could order all of this planet, this urban monstrosity, destroyed, wiped from existence, the fragments of this colossal creation scattered across empty space. For some reason, the thought didn’t feel very comforting.

 

Hux found himself wandering through a shopping district, neon lights and blaring music warring for attention, overwhelming and maddening. He gravitated to one of the quieter little vendors, a cart decked with twinkling little lights like artificial stars. It looked like the sharp-eyed Twi’lek girl was selling perfumes and lotions, with exotic scents from worlds that Hux had never even heard of. He ran his fingers over a few of the smooth glass bottles. They had ridiculous flowery script labelling all of them. He picked up one at random and worked the stopper loose. The smell wrapped around him, a gentle cloak of woods and earth and rainfall.

 

“Ah, yes, the Corellian Athtari,” Said the girl, flashing him a crooked grin. “Very good choice, sir. Perfectly formulated for… _intimate_ endeavors.”

 

Hux felt his face go red. What the hell was wrong with all of these Core world inhabitants? Was everyone obsessed with sex? No wonder the First Order was needed here; the fools couldn’t think through the logistics and ergonomics of running a galactic government with so much of their brain capacities devoted to copulation.

 

Still. He liked the smell. That’s the _only_ reason he bought the little bottle and tucked it into his coat pocket.

 

Back at his small apartment, it didn’t take long to ready himself. Hair: washed and gelled carefully into place. Face: clean-shaven. Uniform: inspection-worthy. Hux adjusted his collar and glared at the bottle perched on the edge of the sink. It was an inanimate object; it wasn’t laughing at him. He dabbed the tiniest amount of the oil on the inside of his wrist and rubbed it in. Because he liked the smell. And then tucked it into an inner pocket of his uniform.

 

A soft chime announced a visitor at Hux’s door. He checked himself in the mirror one last time. Exactness and precision. Good. Wearing his uniform like armor, Hux opened the door.

 

Organa was smiling, his painted face delighted. As if he were genuinely happy to see Hux. “General Hux,” he said. “I had my worries about what you were going to wear, but I see that I needn’t have worried. You look...very nice.”

 

 _Don’t let it go to your head_. “You look very nice, as well.” The Prince did look good, in flowing deep red that swept around him as he stepped forward into Hux’s space. This time, Hux could step away, letting Organa in to the apartment.

 

“Thank you,” said Organa, coy, playing at being demure. He stopped and looked around the room. “This is where you’ve been staying? It’s so…” Hux could practically see the man going down a list of descriptive words he could use. “...simple! Very… minimalist!”

 

“It’s much bigger than I’m used to,” Hux admitted. “And nicer. Even a General’s quarters must be conscientious of space on a starship.” He tightened his lips together. Organa had a way of making him say more than he intended.

 

The prince turned to him, his robes draping perfectly with the movement. A corner of insanity in Hux pointed out that with athletic grace like that, Organa would be a deadly melee fighter, if he ever trained. Hux put that bizarre idea behind him.

 

Organa’s smile brightened, and Hux had the brief, terrifying fantasy that the Prince had heard his stray thought. “I brought this for you,” Organa said, holding out a small bag of black, shiny paper. Curious, Hux accepted it and peered inside. A stiff piece of black and silver fabric lay inside. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” Organa continued. “But, well, it _is_ a Masquerade.”

 

Hux looked up at him. “Where’s your mask?”

 

Organa pulled a red, black and gold mask from somewhere in the folds of his costume. “I’ll put it on when we get there.”

 

With trepidation, Hux pulled the mask from the bag. True to all of his previous encounters with the man, Organa couldn’t seem to stay in his own space. He took the mask from Hux and put it on him, carefully adjusting it to sit perfectly on the right side of Hux’s face. “There.”

 

Hux silently cursed the man. The mask was actually comfortable, and didn’t hinder his vision at all. “How does it look?”

 

“Perfect. How does it feel?”

 

“I suppose I can put up with it for an hour or so.”

 

“Oh, good.” Organa leaned forward, intention filling his eyes. Hux’s heart leapt in his chest; their faces were so close. If either one of them closed that last inch or so of distance… But Organa didn’t move, holding dreadfully still, even though Hux could see his pulse racing in the hollow of his throat. Was… was Organa waiting for something? A signal from Hux? He’d never hesitated to touch him, before. Hux felt a wretched anger tighten his neck and jaw. How _dare_ this soft princeling be considerate, now of all times. He wasn’t… he wasn’t supposed to be like this. Hux had no room for anything _gentle,_  or _sweet_ , or _kind._  How _dare_ he. How dare he leave the last move for Hux, with just enough rope to hang himself.

 

Organa giggled lightly, stepping back towards the door. “We should get going. Only people who don’t know anything about fashion believe in being ‘fashionably late’.”

 

And with that, Organa had effectively decimated the strange fury that had held Hux immobile. The General both hated it and was grateful.

 

The Marquis’ ballroom was massive, and sumptuously bedecked in lights and garlands of sweet white flowers. Every color imaginable, and a few Hux had not imagined, danced around the room. It was overwhelming to the senses on every level. Hux had never, ever considered himself to be the kind of person to be uneasy in a crowd; he commanded tens of thousands of troops, held strategy meetings, addressed thousands at a time. But, he admitted, facing down a faceless mass of neatly organized stormtroopers was a bit different than this.

 

Organa’s fingers entwined with his. “You’ll be just fine,” the Prince murmured, lifting their hands together and brushing a barely-there kiss to Hux’s knuckles. Hux scoffed and snatched his hand back. It was really starting to get on his nerves, the way Organa seemed to see right through him to pick at his weak spots with clever fingers.

 

The Prince smiled again at Hux. How he could see anything through that mask of his was beyond Hux. Hux disliked it; he couldn’t see Organa’s eyes to read him.

 

“Prince Organa!” A petite woman with jeweled combs holding up her black hair swooped her way towards them.

 

“My dear Lari!” Organa exclaimed. “Hux, this is Lari Maot, the Chancellor’s daughter. Lari, this is General Hux.”

 

Hux nodded politely at the young woman, and she returned the gesture. “Your Highness,” she continued. “The next song is the Garvanti. I simply _must_ have you dance it with me!”

 

Organa hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Go dance with the young lady,” snapped Hux.

 

“I’d be delighted to dance with you,” said Organa, his voice warm as he took her hand and bowed over it. Their arms linked, they made their way through the party-goers, Organa shooting a look over his shoulder at Hux before they disappeared.

 

What an idiot. Hux was the First Order’s finest General, trusted right-hand man of the Supreme Leader. He didn’t need some simpering socialite to hold his hand. He was perfectly fine standing over here for a while, near the wall, sipping at a thin glass of something that hopefully had alcohol in it.

 

It was interesting, Hux noted, that because everyone in the room was trying so desperately to stand out, the ones who actually caught the eye were the ones most simply dressed. That was likely the only reason he spotted them, lingering to one side of the spacious ballroom.

 

A pair of men in matching clean white shirts, still of fine material and fit, but unadorned and with no masks. The first watched the crowd with an arrogant air, brown hair curled perfectly and eyes watchful and laughing at the same time. The other man…

 

Hux breathed in deeply and forced himself to remain calm. Following the ebb and flow of the people around him, he approached the pair. The watchful one saw him coming, and leveled a challenging gaze at him, curious and unafraid. The other didn’t notice until it was too late.

 

“FN-2187.”

 

The rogue stormtrooper nearly jumped out of his skin, brown eyes wild for an instant. The other man stepped confidently between them, making Hux meet his eye. “Can I help you?” He quirked an eyebrow at Hux's dress uniform. “Sir?” He added, deliberately and insultingly late.

 

Hux bared his teeth at the man in what could only very generously be called a smile. “Good evening,” he said. “I am General Hux.”

 

The other man grinned. “Oh, I know who you are, _General_. I’m Commander Poe Dameron.”

 

Hux felt something in his face twitch. “Ah. The...ace pilot of the Resistance.”

 

Dameron fucking winked at him. “None other.”

 

There was something… Hux examined the two of them again, especially the way FN-2187 stood just behind Dameron, as if already used to following him. Looking at the Resistance fighter, Hux pictured him in thick glasses and a horrendous blond wig. Could it really be so easy? It was possible…

 

“I apologize,” said Hux with the most diminutive of bows. “It was not my intention to alarm either of you. You are very safe from me here. We are in the heart of civilization and I am, after all, only one man.”

 

Hux looked directly into FN-2187’s eyes. “Although it seems one man was enough to steal you away once already.”

 

There it was. The tiniest flicker in the stormtrooper’s gaze to his left, towards Dameron. Victory.

 

From over Hux’s right shoulder, an all-too-familiar voice rang in his ears and ran nails down his spine. “My darling Poe Dameron!”

 

Dameron grinned even as he was swept up into Organa’s swirling robes and practically molested. FN-2187’s face morphed into a mask of pure horror. Hux had never sympathized with a stormtrooper so much in his life.

 

“It’s good to see you, Ben!” exclaimed Dameron, his smile delighted. “It’s been ages!”

 

“Too long!” Organa whined, draping himself over the pilot. Dameron’s knees nearly buckled under the larger man’s frame.

 

“As affectionate as ever, I see,” wheezed Dameron.

 

Organa laughed lightly, and turned his mercurial attention onto the hapless FN-2187. The stormtrooper looked like he was petrified with terror.

 

“Aaaah!” squeaked Organa. Hux winced. It really should not be possible for a grown man to reach that pitch. “Who are _you_? You’re simply _adorable_! Look at those precious eyes!” He clasped FN-2187’s face between two gloved hands. Hux would not have been surprised if FN-2187 had passed out on the spot. The First Order was not exactly big on physical contact. Yet, the traitor remained impressively conscious.

 

“That’s Finn,” said Dameron, who seemed to be trying to keep from laughing by eating his own hand. “He’s just joined the Resistance.”

 

“The Resistance! Pffagh!” Organa wrapped one long arm around “Finn” and leaned their faces closer together. Hux wondered if his own face had looked anywhere near as comical as FN-2187’s when he first met Organa. “I will tell you right now, Finn, there is no future among that rag-tag gang of lowlifes. You should stay here with me in the Core worlds! I could make you the darling of society in no time! You would be adored everywhere you went!”

 

Organa released his captive and whirled on Dameron once again. “Oh! I nearly forgot! My darling Hux, this is my childhood friend Poe Dameron. Poe, this is General Hux of the First Order.” His smile grew slightly mischievous. “I expect the two of you to at least _pretend_ to get along. For me.” He leaned slightly closer to Dameron. “The General is here hunting down the Red Wolf.”

 

Dameron’s face did not move even slightly. No expression at all. FN-2187, on the other hand, was used to a helmet always hiding his reactions. It was easier than reading a book. The look he gave Organa and then Dameron told Hux everything he needed to know. It seemed that the  Prince _was_ useful, after all. Hux could give the order for Dameron’s capture, interrogation...

 

“The Red Wolf? Really?” Dameron drawled, carefully adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. “You know, I heard that the Red Wolf made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs.”

 

Organa went oddly quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice sounded slightly strangled. “Interesting, Poe. _I_ heard that it was _twelve_.”

 

Dameron scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ben. Every _decent_ pilot knows that anything less than seventeen is impressive, and that it’s not physically _possible_ to make the Kessel run in less than thirteen and a quarter. Once you pass Alpha five-ten you have to-”

 

“Well, Poe, if _you_ ever actually made the Kessel run you would know that the event horizon of twenty-five sigma three stretches far enough to-”

 

“You clearly don’t know what you’re talking about, Ben. It’s a good thing you never learned how to fly your own starship, since your head is full of nothing but Wookie fur. Twenty-five sigma three is part of a binary system, and that means you have to-”

 

“Poe! Please! You’re just embarrassing yourself! The binary system has a mass in excess of ten and a half million-”

 

It was incredible. The foppish, flamboyant Prince had completely vanished. His movements were decisive and certain, his voice clear and passionate. Hux was looking at a strong-willed man having a good-natured argument with someone he admired. The General made some mental adjustments.

 

Observed Interests of Ben Organa:

  1. Clothing
  2. Deep-space smuggling routes
  3. Astronomical physics
  4. Handsome young men (includes traitors)



 

Hux took a sip from his glass and grimaced. Whatever he was drinking was rather too sugary for his taste.

 

“It’s so wonderful to see you, Poe!” gushed the Prince. “How long will you be here? We _must_ catch up with each other!”

 

Dameron shrugged and grinned. “Aw, Ben, I’m sure I’d just bore you, talking about the day-to-day workings of the Resistance.” He gave Hux a look of pure poison. “Besides, Finn and I can’t stay. We’ve got to leave Coruscant as soon as we can.”

 

“Nonsense!” Organa whined, waving his hands at Dameron alarmingly. “Say you’ll stay the night here!”

 

A perplexed look crossed Dameron’s face. “Alright. We’ll stay the night here. I guess we’re not needed back at base that badly.”

 

“Good,” sighed Organa. “And don’t you dare think of sneaking off without telling me, Poe!”

 

Dameron raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Your wish is my command, Your Majesty.”

 

Organa smiled, smug. “Now that it’s settled that you’re not going anywhere,” he turned back to Hux. “I’ve been looking forward to your company for too long, Hux.” He flourished a bow and held out a hand to Hux. Feeling a little fluttery, probably from the alcohol, Hux took his hand.

 

“General,” said Dameron. “I sincerely hope that you encounter the Red Wolf soon.” He smiled viciously.

 

The veiled threat was not lost on Hux. “I have a feeling that I will.” He returned the smile, and turned to the rest of the party hand-in-hand with Organa.

 

Hux felt like he was dreaming. What a strange moment in time this was, suspended in the air and ready to freefall into destruction, but not just yet. For now, Hux could be next to Organa, watching the man chat and flounce and charm his way around the party. Sometimes he would be swept away by a dance or a conversation, but always he would return to Hux, as if drawn back into orbit around his sun.

 

Curious, Hux thought of earlier in the day, that conversation over the comm, and Organa leaning into Hux, like he wanted a kiss like a man dying of thirst wanted water. The Prince was not what Hux had first thought. This flighty, over-dramatic act was just that: an act. Organa wore his persona like Hux wore his uniform, as armor. Hux wanted to peel it off of him.

 

The hedonistic party spiraled on, dragging the revelry deep into the neon night. Hux stopped drinking the sugary drinks. They were giving him a headache.

 

“You look ready to go,” Organa said quietly, one of his hands brushing over the back of Hux’s neck. “Will you come home with me?”

 

Hux wanted to strip away Organa’s layers to see his heart beat. “Sure.”

 

Organa’s penthouse was certainly princely, though Hux was surprised at how understated the rooms managed to be.

 

“This is… nice,” Hux managed, looking around the sitting room. He could see a bedroom through one door, and the refresher through another. A third door led to what in anyone else’s life would have been an office, but it seemed it had been turned into an extension of Organa’s closet. The lights were kept dim and quiet, a relief for the pounding in Hux’s skull.

 

“Have a seat,” Organa said, handing Hux a glass of water. Hux was surprised at how thirsty he suddenly felt.

 

“It’s all that _seil_ you were drinking earlier,” said Organa. “That water should take care of your headache.”

 

“I didn’t say I have a headache.”

 

“Didn’t you?”

 

Hux gulped down the water. Organa must have been watching him more carefully than he had noticed. It did help his head, he had to admit, though the lack of pain brought an uncomfortable clarity back to his thinking.

 

“Ben,” Hux said slowly. “What happened to your friend Dameron?”

 

Organa looked up from where he’d been setting his mask on a low table. “Poe? Oh. He left.”

 

It felt like Hux’s insides were suddenly full of cold lead. “I thought he was going to stay longer.”

 

Organa shrugged. “Poe and Finn were only here delivering a message from my mother. I don’t know where they were on their way to, but it must have been important if Poe left so quickly after saying he would stay.”

 

Hux struggled to control his breathing. The room felt like it was slowly spinning. “Poe Dameron is the Red Wolf.”

 

Organa laughed. “Poe? The Red Wolf? Don’t be ridiculous, Hux.”

 

“You have _no_ idea,” hissed Hux, panic rising in him. “No _idea_ what’s at stake, here, you brainless idiot!”

 

Another laugh escaped Organa, this one a bit louder, almost genuine. “You’re right. I don’t. Why don’t you tell me, Hux? What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like the First Order would execute their best General for a single failure.”

 

Hux snapped. All of the frustration, the silly games and idle machinations and anger (and fear, _what if I fail?_ and loneliness, that aching old loneliness that had never ever left) boiled out of him all at once. The pressure released through his arm, firing the muscles with every pent-up emotion in one single, solid strike. His fist connected solidly with Organa’s mouth, crushing painted lips into teeth.

 

Organa gave an odd twitch as he fell backwards into his chair, like he had almost dodged the attack on reflex, but something overrode the signal to his body. He lifted a shaking hand to his mouth. It looked as though his bottom lip had split, and the Prince ran a curious tongue over the tiny wound.

 

“You just punched me.” Organa was breathless with shock.

 

“I hate you.”

 

“So I gathered. You should use your words more often, Hux. The word I like to use is ‘millennium’.”

 

“ _I hate you_ ,” Hux hissed between his teeth. Organa stared up at him. “You...You have _everything_ . Wealth, abundance, love, power, all at your fingertips. There is no place in your head that can even _imagine_ the concept of hunger, or loss, or true suffering or deprivation. And you-” Hux felt his breath catch, heard his voice start to break apart, but he couldn’t stop the words in rising volume. The festering wound had been lanced, and everything was spilling out, despite Hux’s every attempt to stop it. “You _waste_ it, all of it. You throw it away like it means _nothing_ , squander all your privileges on parties and clothes and extravagance when there are people _starving_ …”

 

Hux tried to blink away the stinging in his eyes, the rasp in his throat. “If I had even a _tenth_ of what you have, I could...I could...”

 

“You could…?”

 

Hux raised his chin, as if daring to be defied. “I could change the way things are.” _I could save_ **_everyone_** _._

 

He was staring at Hux, now, his lips slightly parted, his eyes wide. “Oh,” he breathed. There he was, Hux thought, the real Ben under the act, the one he had caught glimpses of, earlier. Slowly, Ben stood from his chair, looking at Hux like he was seeing him for the first time. “You’re an idealist.” Hux scoffed, still shaking with rage, but Ben took a quiet step forward. “Your naiveté astounds me, General.” He was in Hux’s space, now, crowding and looming in that strange way he always did, but this time Hux stood his ground and let him. “Even if you had ten thousand times what I do, you still couldn’t save everyone.”

 

Ben tipped his chin down and chastely touched their lips together. He pulled away again so quickly that Hux couldn’t react, barely even felt like they had made contact. They stared at each other in the dim light.

 

 _He kissed me._ Hux let that sink in for a moment. His chest heaved with the effort of every breath, his arms shook with adrenaline from his anger, his fear, his desire. Yes… desire. After contemplating it for a bit, watching Ben’s hungry, dark eyes, Hux decided he was ready. He wanted more. He leaned forward.

 

Ben shied away, his shoulders drawing up defensively. “Ah,” he said. “If you could...wait, for just a moment, please, General.”

 

He stepped away, towards the ‘fresher. Hux followed after him helplessly, as if tugged by a leash. Ben took a small white cloth and dabbed liquid from a blue bottle onto it. “Have to take this off,” he said, gesturing at his painted face. “Or it will get _everywhere_ , believe me.”

 

“May I?” said Hux, pointing at the cloth. Ben looked at Hux, at the cloth, and then back before holding it out to Hux. The General took the cloth, and then wrapped his other hand around Ben’s wrist. Leading him out to the sitting room, Hux pushed the taller man down into one of the plush chairs.

 

He had never done anything like this before, but something inside Hux was burning, shaking. The anger was still there, but it had changed texture, somehow. He wanted to be the one to reveal Ben’s face, with his own hands. Careful, he ran the damp cloth over Ben’s forehead, rubbing gently. The white came away easily to show the fair skin beneath. Hux felt his breath stutter. He hadn’t expected freckles.

 

With a gentleness he did not know he possessed, he slid the cloth down Ben’s nose. There was something bold and noble about that particular feature; Hux decided he liked it and planted a quick kiss on the tip. Ben wrinkled his nose with a small almost-laugh.

 

The world slipped away. The room was heavy with only the sound of the two of them breathing. The air was warm.

 

Tenderly, Hux traced the edge of the cloth around Ben’s dark eyes. They fluttered closed, a sigh slipping from Ben, and Hux felt the man finally relaxing, letting the General see past...whatever facade it was he held onto so tightly. With a very small feeling of alarm, Hux realized that he had crawled into Ben’s lap, knees straddling hips. It didn’t really matter that much, he decided, leaning in to press a tremulous kiss to each delicate eyelid.

 

“Hux…” breathed Ben, the syllable floating up to catch in the General’s throat.

 

He ran the cloth in small circles over Ben’s cheeks, along his hairline, down his neck, feeling himself pulled closer and closer to that upturned, open face. Ben was shivering, a tiny tremble running through him every time Hux breathed on his damp skin. Hux traced the path of the cloth with his lips, a soft caress that lingered over every pore.

 

Ben’s hands clutched at him, finding purchase at Hux’s waist. It was as if he were afraid that if he didn’t hold on tight enough, Hux would slip away, fade into the darkness. “I won’t leave,” Hux whispered, but that only seemed to intensify Ben’s desperation. Hux felt Ben peel his gloves off as fast as he could, slipping bare hands under Hux’s shirt to press into his back.

 

He’d saved the best for last. Softly, Hux brushed the cloth over Ben’s full mouth. He was on fire, now; pressed as close as he could to Ben, he could feel every twitch of muscle, every shudder as Ben gasped for air through parted lips.

 

“Oh, _fuck_. Hux-”

 

Hux dropped the cloth and tangled his hands into dark hair. He kissed Ben. Like a drowning man, he drew Ben’s breath into him. It was all passion, quickly falling apart into tongues and teeth and _yes_. _Finally_.

 

Ben was whimpering under the onslaught, fighting to meet Hux, to match him in every way. Hux could hear his own breath rasping through him, but he couldn’t stop it or slow it down. He was moving his hips, too, desperate and aching for contact and finding his own arousal met by Ben’s.

 

Hux pulled back just enough to bite his way down Ben’s neck. Ben’s whimpers and little moans rose in pitch; he was nearly thrashing, mindless with want. Hux was definitely going to have bruises where Ben was grabbing him.

 

Sucking hard at skin, Hux let go and soothed his tongue over the mark. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I want you to fuck me.”

 

Ben instantly froze, his hands grabbing hard at Hux’s hips. The Prince was definitely stronger than he looked, holding Hux still. Hux tried to pull away, but-

 

“Don’t move,” said Ben, his voice completely wrecked. “Unless you want this to be over prematurely. Just...give me a minute.”

 

A minute. A minute was good. Hux could handle a minute. This was fine. He could sit here, his face pressed into Ben’s neck, breathing in the smell of clean sweat and whatever astringent thing the cloth had been dampened with.

 

Sure enough, Ben’s grip eased and he pulled slightly away from Hux to look into his face.

 

“Good?” asked Hux.

 

Ben nodded, looking a bit dazed, still. “Yeah.”

 

“Good. Because I need you inside of me as soon as possible.”

 

Ben groaned, his head tipping back slightly. “I...ah…”

 

“Shut up,” said Hux, deciding that it was far past time for clothes to start coming off. He’d waited long enough, damn it.

 

Hux had his coat off and his shirt halfway undone when Ben grabbed his wrists. The Prince was breathing hard, and staring at Hux like he was trying to see into every dark crevice of his soul.

 

“I…” Ben licked his lips. It was very distracting. “Hux, I…”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I… want to… trust you.”

 

Hux stared at him, this new creature that he was discovering tonight. Ben’s eyes were wide, his expression completely open. He was…. Hux touched his fingertips to the Prince’s cheeks, settling his hands on either side of his face. Ben was frighteningly child-like. He was fragile, this real Ben. Hux wanted to wrap his arms around him and never let go, never let anyone hurt him.

 

“Hux… can I tell you the truth?”

 

Hux leaned his forehead against Ben’s and gazed into his eyes. “Yes.”

 

Ben breathed in sharply. “I am… um…”

 

Hux touched the softest kiss he could manage onto that faltering mouth. “Tell me.”

 

Those dark eyes squeezed shut, and Hux felt him tense between his legs.

 

“I’ve never done this before.”

 

Hux blinked. “Wait… what?”

 

Ben let all the air out of his lungs. “I’ve, um, never… really, um… had sex with anyone. Really.”

 

“You’re a virgin?”

 

“Um… sort of?”

 

“You’re sort of a virgin?”

 

“Well… yes?”

 

Hux tried really hard to figure out Ben’s words, but he found he could not. Probably because there were a couple of other things that were really hard at the moment.

 

“You… certainly give off the impression of being… experienced.”

 

That earned Hux a high, panicky laugh. “Well… you know how it is.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“I mean… I’ve fooled around a little.”

 

“Alright,” said Hux. “So, what _have_ you done?”

 

“Oh, you know…” Hux really didn’t know. “I’ve, um, used my mouth before.”

 

Hux found himself nodding in bewilderment. “So you’ve given blowjobs. I think we can work with that.”

 

“Men _and_ women.”

 

“See, that’s fine with me,” shrugged Hux. “You’re here with me, now, and I don’t actually care how many people you’ve been with, or haven’t been with. You don’t have to prove anything to me, Ben.” Hux found himself grinning. It was a bit alarming. “Besides,” he added, leaning in to mouth at Ben’s ear. “You’re already way ahead of me.”

 

Hux heard the air hiss as Ben sucked in a deep breath. “ _Oh_.”

 

It felt nice, admitting that to someone. “But… I intend to catch up to you, tonight. So don’t think you’ll have that advantage for long.”

 

As nice as it was admitting his inexperience to someone, it felt _really_ nice to do away with that inexperience with Ben.

 

Hux couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so well, or so deeply, even with the strange dreams. Ben’s bed was huge, and the mattress and blankets hugged around his body, comforting. Reaching for Ben, Hux’s hand found warm skin and firm muscle. He opened his eyes and blinked the sleep from them. Ben was turned towards him, his hands curled near his face. He looked so young when he was asleep, though Hux was fairly sure they were near the same age.

 

Hux sighed. _I’m lost to you, now_. He tipped Ben’s chin up with his fingers. That face… it was full of all the gentleness and softness that had been strangers to Hux his whole life. With an aching, helpless heart, Hux kissed Ben, caressing with all the sympathy and kindness he shouldn’t possess, until Ben started to kiss him back.

 

“Good morning,” Ben whispered, his eyes smiling up at Hux.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Ben yawned. “I’m starving. Are you hungry?”

 

They ate in bed together, their breakfast served by a little butler droid. Ben had the windows set to let in all of the soft morning sun. It was a little haven for the two of them, just for now, as they nibbled at fruit and eventually ended up shoving cake in each other’s faces. Hux couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard. He probably never had.

 

All too soon, though, Ben climbed out of bed and began the laborious process of getting himself ready to go out in public. Hux lingered between the sheets, a part of him hoping that they could offer him some kind of supernatural protection.

 

“I dreamed about you last night,” said Hux, running his fingers over the thick quilt.

 

“Sorry,” Ben said, as if it was his fault. Their eyes met through the mirror. “I mean...you did?”

 

Hux shrugged. He wasn’t sure why he’d even brought it up. “Sort of,” he admitted. “I was in a dark forest, with snow all around. I was looking for you.”

 

Ben’s eyes were magnetic, drawing Hux out of all his hiding places. “Did you find me?”

 

A pool of darkness. Black cloth, black blood, pale face burned and hands. Broken. “Yes.”

 

Ben smiled. “Good.” He opened a small gold box and dabbed at the white makeup inside.

 

“Why do you wear that?” Hux asked, nodding at the box. He didn’t really want to move, didn’t want to leave the soft bed and the soft room. Maybe he could just stay here.

 

Ben looked down at the box in his hands. He took a breath, as if bracing himself. “What do you know about my family, Hux?”

 

Hux shrugged. “Your mother is General over the Resistance. She used to be a Senator, and before that a Princess. I’ve heard that your father was a war hero, but I’ve also heard that he was some kind of criminal. Your mother’s mother was a Senator, too. Am I right?”

 

Ben’s smile was strange, and rather sad. “Padmé Amidala wasn’t just a Senator. She was Queen of Naboo, for a time. Wise, powerful, beautiful and kind.” He set the box down, and Hux got the sense that Ben was retreating into his own mind. “I’ve always been...temperamental, to put it lightly. Growing up, I was always…” His eyes flickered. “I was always compared to my grandfather, her husband. I was told that I was so much like him, that everyone could see him in me. My temper was out of control; I would lash out violently over the smallest things. It got...pretty bad. I nearly fell to…”

 

Hux wondered if Ben realized he had stopped talking. His gaze was turned inward, captivated by his own memories. Hux shivered. He felt like he shouldn’t be allowed to see this, to see so much of Ben. “What changed?” he prompted.

 

Ben looked at him, his expression shifting through happiness, sadness, and gratitude in less than a second. “There was one day that was...particularly bad. My uncle took me aside, just the two of us, and he told me the story of how Padmé Amidala died.” He looked down at his hands. “Grandfather strangled her in a fit of rage. He lived the rest of his days knowing that he had killed the love of his life.”

 

Ben took a deep, steadying breath. “Uncle said to me that I had to make a choice. I could continue as I was, becoming more and more like my grandfather, until I would find myself surrounded by nothing but fire and the blood of my loved ones and the _dark_... Or I could decide not to. The choice was mine.”

 

His eyes met Hux’s through the mirror. “I made my decision. I wanted to be more like _her_ , and less like him. So…” He held up the box. “I guess I wear this because I keep making that decision every day. And when I look in the mirror I want to see her, rather than him. It’s my reminder.”

 

Hux shifted to rest his head in his other hand and considered the man before him. “I think you don’t need it anymore,” he said.

 

Ben’s face was so easy to read, now, so frighteningly open. Hux could plainly see how just those few words of his affected the man, like no one had ever said he was good enough, before.

 

When they went to the Senate building, Ben was as carefully clothed as ever, but his face was bare, and smiling at Hux.

 

Hux should have known better, should have known that any kind of softness in his life would be stripped away without mercy.

 

They were not in the reception room for long before Ben’s face went white, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

 

“What’s wrong?” Hux asked, the concern in his voice sounding foreign to his ears.

 

“I-it’s nothing,” stammered Ben, lifting a hand to his head. “Just...just a sudden headache.”

 

Hux was worried, but Ben brushed off all of his attempts to do anything. It was only a few minutes later that a young man, little more than a boy, burst into the room, his eyes wild and his face pale.

 

“Senators!” He yelled into the milling crowd. “There’s been an attack!”

 

Stillness dropped over the room like a burial shroud. The boy flinched, feeling every eye focus on him. “Ah…” He coughed into his sleeve, trying to catch his breath. “There’s been...an attack. The First Order fired their weapon, the Starkiller, destroying the entire Hosnian System in one blow.” Faint whispers in the room grew into cries of anguish, but were silenced by his next words. “By...by order of General Elan Hux.”

 

The few people standing near Hux withdrew carefully. Ah. So that was how it was going to be.

 

After a few seconds of brittle, horrified silence, Hux caught a swirl of motion from the corner of his eye. Ben was stalking away from him, the train of his robes dragging behind his tense frame as he fled from the room.

 

Inwardly, Hux applauded Snoke’s genius. He hadn’t expected such a devastating move. How Snoke had anticipated Hux’s treason when Hux himself hadn’t even known he was contemplating it until the option was removed just now… and with such brutality. Hux smiled. Perhaps Snoke really could see the future.

 

Hux made his way over to one of the servers. The crowd parted before him, the quiet letting his footsteps echo. He took a glass of wine from the out-held tray. Lifting it in the air, he said, “To the First Order.” He drained the glass, the wine sour on his tongue.

  
Hux walked out of the room with his back straight and his head held high, tossing the empty glass over his shoulder as he left.


	4. Iron Oxide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You cried wolf  
> The tears they soaked your fur  
> The blood dripped from your fangs  
> You said, "What have I done?"
> 
> You loved that lamb  
> With every sinful bone  
> And there you wept alone  
> Your heart was so contrite"
> 
> \- "Deathbed" by Relient K

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the chapter titles are red things. and all the chapter summaries are wolf quotes. I'm super good at this game.
> 
> If you head over to ofcorsetstrash . tumblr . com I posted a really super-rough sketch of Keno Ren's mask. You can tell that this particular Knight of Ren idolizes... Dark Side users OTHER than Darth Vader. Go ahead and leave a comment about who the mask looks like...

Hux nearly made it out of the Senate Building before Ben caught him.

 

“You are, it seems, an excellent liar, General Hux.” Something almost like grief twisted its way over Ben’s face. He paced back and forth before Hux like an animal, blocking the General’s path. His movements were caught in mirrors on the walls. It made Hux feel surrounded. “You planned this from the beginning.”

 

Hux nearly smiled. “Of course.”

 

“You’ve been laughing at us, mocking our attempts to maintain peace.”

 

“I have.”

 

“...You _used_ me.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“You ordered the deaths of _billions_!”

 

 _That wasn’t me._ “Yes.”

 

Ben’s head snapped around to face him, and Hux saw fire in his eyes. Burning.

 

“Hux,” Ben snarled through clenched teeth. “Did our...time together mean anything to you at all?”

 

 _Everything._ “You were a good enough fuck for one night,” Hux sneered.

 

There seemed to be some sort of inward war taking place inside Organa, flickers of it showing on his face, in his clenching hands, in his twitching shoulders. It finally erupted in a furious shout, a primal cry of rage. Organa whirled, snatching a heavy vase and hurling it into a mirror.

 

There it was, on Organa’s face. That was the anger of a man capable of wrapping his hands around a loved one’s neck and squeezing the light from their eyes. Hux told himself he felt much better knowing he wasn’t the only monster in the room.

 

Organa was staring at him, lips still snarled in fury, the threat of violence blatant in his eyes. “Why?” he rasped, his voice ragged.

 

Hux smirked. “The First Order is-”

 

“No!” Organa howled. “You…. Hux… You’re lying! Tell me why!”

 

Hux laughed. “You are pathetic, _Prince_ Organa. It was so easy to use your sympathies against you.”

 

Organa was shaking his head, nearly frantic. “ _No,_ Hux! Stop lying to me! Tell me why you are lying. What threat does the First Order hold over you?”

 

“The First Order doesn’t hold anything over me. I am their General, a rank I hold with pride.”

 

“Stop _lying_ to me!” Organa cried. Hux felt his hand twitch towards a blaster he wasn’t carrying. “So help me, Hux, if you don’t tell me the truth I will _rip it from your skull_!”

 

“Ha!” The sound startled Hux as it escaped him. “It’s sad, really, how desperate you were for even false affection. You are nothing but a spoiled brat: used to getting your way and throwing tantrums when you don’t.”

 

“Hux-”

 

“ _Grow up,_ Organa. The universe isn’t _nice,_ or _fair._ The reality is that you _wanted_ what we had to be genuine. You surround yourself with your cohorts and your grand estates and you dress yourself the way you want people to see you because underneath all of that pomp and show you are _powerless_ and _frail_. The people around you just use you; they throw you away as soon as they have what they want. Even the slightest flash of kindness and you broke _so easily_ , like you were just waiting for the excuse to drop all of your fragile pretenses. I pity you. You are sad… sad and pathetic, and you will die _alone,_ wasted and utterly spent.”

 

Hux’s heart was racing, his lungs heaving with the effort of the words he’d just let fly. The anger was gone from Organa’s face, replaced with a wide-eyed sadness. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way, Hux.”

 

Hux flinched. Again. Again and again, Organa stripped him bare and sank his teeth in where Hux was most vulnerable. A cold darkness was rising, bleeding up through-

 

Organa’s expression had gone blank, his eyes fixed and unseeing, his whole being frozen. “What?” snapped Hux, raising a hand to wipe away the accursed dampness on his cheeks.

 

“Something’s coming…” Organa tilted his head slightly, as if trying to place a distant sound. “For you?”

 

Hux could hear something, now, like a roar almost too low to be heard, but could still be felt in his bones. He checked the time. “Thirty-eight hours and two minutes,” he murmured. “Unusually prompt.”

 

Organa sucked in a sharp breath. “We need to run.” His eyes finally came back into focus. “Hux, we need to _run_.”

 

Hux crossed his arms and braced himself. “Run?”

 

“Ben.”

 

The voice was strange, harsh and mechanical, echoing through the hallway even though it was quiet. Organa stiffened as if struck by a physical blow, and turned his head just a little, as if he wanted to look back over his shoulder at the voice, but couldn’t make himself.

 

“Good morning, Ren,” Hux nodded his head at the shadowy figure in greeting.

 

“General,” the Knight replied. “Your assistance in this matter is most appreciated.”

 

The world went as dark as Organa’s eyes.

 

*********

 

Hux woke in a dimly lit cabin, cramped and uncomfortable. He winced at the blinding pain in his head. Had he been struck? He couldn’t seem to remember exactly what happened. The details were fuzzy, on a background of dark fabric and the scent of smoke.

 

He stumbled from the cabin and made his way to the cockpit of the small ship. There she was, calm and cold as the vacuum of space. Both smelling of burnt metal.

 

“You are awake,” said Keno Ren.

 

“You have a gift for stating the obvious,” Hux said. She turned from the controls to face him. He had only seen her face a few times before, and it always startled him. She was just so young, though she had a fierceness that gave her more maturity than her years should have allowed. Her eyes were flat, reflecting no light at all. In another life, she might have been pretty.

 

“You were unconscious for longer than I anticipated,” she said. “We have just over an hour until we reach Starkiller base. You will have to make your decision quickly.”

 

Hux rubbed at his aching temples. “My decision, Ren? You’re being cryptic.”

 

Her upper lip nearly twitched into a sneer of disgust. “You must decide,” she said very slowly, enunciating each syllable. “What story I will tell the Supreme Leader. The story of how you aided in the capture of the Red Wolf through your cunning manipulations… or the story of how you were led by him to your disgrace and failure through foolish sentiment.”

 

Hux was not nearly conscious enough to wrap his brain around what she just said, but he wasn’t about to ask the Knight to clarify.

 

She turned back to the stars. “You should go check on him. He might wake up, soon.”

 

A tiny corner of Hux’s brain began to scream at him. Fully awake, now, he staggered back through the ship to the only other cabin, the only other place a living person could be on the vessel. Standing at the door, he hesitated. He knew. He knew who was on the other side of the door, and he wasn’t ready. His hands shook. He would never be ready to open that door. Maybe if he left it closed, he could go back to Starkiller, back to the First Order like none of this had ever happened. There was a growing pressure in his mind, an aching that settled just behind his eyes; Ren was watching. No, Hux told himself. Even if he pretended this whole mission had never occurred… Steeling himself, Hux opened the door.

 

There he was. Terrorizer of the First Order, the Red Wolf himself, lanky body curled up awkwardly to fit on the small cot, stripped down to undershirt, trousers and boots. His eyes were closed, dark lashes brushing pale cheeks. He might have been asleep, just as he had been that morning when Hux kissed him awake, were it not for the dried blood caking his hair to the side of his head.

 

Hux sank to his knees on the hard floor. “Oh, _Ben_ ,” he whispered. There was nothing else to say, no action to take, no plans to put together. All Hux could do was drink in the sight of him.

 

It was hard to say how long he knelt there, the chill of the metal floor seeping into his knees. But while lately it had seemed to the General that time was slow and stretching out too far, it made up for it here, snapping back together in a neck-breaking rush, condensing too quickly for Hux to put himself back together before Keno Ren slunk into the room behind him, her shadow darkening the doorway.

 

Hux stood up, somewhat shaky as proper blood-flow resumed in his legs. “What do you plan to do with him?”

 

“You don’t usually ask questions that you already know the answer to, General.”

 

Hux turned to face her, feeling oddly like he was placing himself protectively in front of Ben. Ren’s mask was back in place, distorting her voice again. Hux rather liked the mask; it made her more human.

 

She shifted her weight. “Thank you, General, for your assistance in capturing the Red Wolf.”

 

Hux breathed out a sound. It was close to a laugh, like a blade is close to a caress. “I hardly did anything.”

 

“But you did. You weakened him immensely. He was always so careful… until you provoked him into that display at Starkiller. His playful attempt to capture your attention finally tipped off the Knights of Ren to the fact that we were dealing with a Jedi.”

 

“A Jedi?” Hux could barely recall the word. “That old religious order?”

 

She looked behind him, at Ben. “You can stop pretending to be asleep, now.”

 

“Spoilsport.”

 

Hux frowned. “How long have you been awake?”

 

“Only a few minutes.”

 

Hux maneuvered himself to one side of the room, where he could watch both of them. Ben hadn’t moved, but his eyes were open, now, bright and aware. “You should take off that mask, Rey.”

 

“What do you think you’ll see if I do?” she answered. “Rey is dead. I killed her myself.” She lifted an object from the folds of her robes. It was a cylindrical metal tube, with a black grip and different swirls of metal. Ben’s eyes went wide, and he pushed himself up from the cot onto his elbows.

 

“So you’re a thief, now, too,” he snarled.

 

“Hardly. This lightsaber was my grandfather’s, and now it belongs to me.”

 

Ben laughed, low and threatening. “You said it yourself,” he grinned at her. “Rey is dead. That means the only person left bearing the name of Obi-wan Kenobi is me. That lightsaber is _mine_.”

 

The figure swathed in black lifted a hand. Hux had very little idea of what Keno Ren was capable of; they worked together only sporadically, and even then she kept mostly to herself, moving like a dark ghost through his ship and the Starkiller. He would occasionally drop her off somewhere, or pick her up from scorched battlefields heaped high with corpses. Watching her choke the air from Ben with only a gesture, Hux wondered for the first time how many of those corpses were solely her doing.

 

It was only a few moments, but when Ren let go, Hux felt himself start to breath again with Ben; he’d been holding his breath in sympathy without realizing.

 

Ben laughed, rubbing at his throat. “You’d make a very poor Sith,” he said, his voice raw. “You are too calm and collected.”

 

“And you make a very poor Jedi. You are too impulsive and temperamental.”

 

“What a pair we make, then.”

 

Ren hid the lightsaber away in her robes. “We’re only a few minutes from Starkiller. I will land the ship, and then you will follow me. Quietly. Or I can drag you through the halls by your neck.” She turned to Hux. “The Supreme Leader has not yet asked for you, so until he does, you will accompany us. It is far beyond time for you to learn of the Force.”

 

“Tell me, Lady Ren,” Hux said with a sneer. “Who of us is being held hostage to keep the other in line?”

 

She didn’t bother answering, only turned and left the room. The floor rumbled as the ship readied to land. The room was otherwise quiet. Hux couldn’t make himself look at Ben.

 

“Ben,” Hux whispered. “I… I didn’t order the attack on the Hosnian system.”

 

A rustle of fabric, and a warm hand on his arm. “Hux…”

 

“You’ve _ruined_ me.” Hux felt his very core shake at the confession. “What am I supposed to do, now?”

 

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

 

Hux lifted his chin to meet Ben’s eyes. “I hate you.”

 

Ben’s lips quirked in a fond smile. It came so easily to him. “I know.” He leaned in and pressed that smile to the corner of Hux’s mouth. “I’m glad,” he whispered there. “That I got to meet you.”

 

That sounded like a goodbye. The logical, dying part of Hux’s mind was trying to pull away, to put the distance back between them, to raise his walls once again. If he could just get those walls back in place, rebuild his fortress, then he would be fine. He could weather anything, there, even this…

 

A tiny shudder moved Ben’s lips, and Hux realized that Ben was crying, his tears dripping against Hux’s skin.

 

“Don’t leave me alone, Hux.”

 

So this was it, then. If anyone had ever asked Hux what a monumental, life-changing decision looked like, he would have said something like the firing of a weapon, or the sending of an order, perhaps a few precise words to the right people at the right time to ensure victory. It never occurred to him, before now, that the most vital choice of his entire life would be this, to lift his arms and place them around another person. He couldn’t say it. The words were not in him. General Elan Hux of the First Order was not capable of such words. But… maybe someday… someone just named Hux _would_ be.

 

Ben pulled away and wiped his face on his sleeve just before Keno Ren returned. “Follow me.” She commanded Ben. “General, you will lead us to the interrogation rooms in sector A02.”

 

Hux felt like his return to Starkiller was hardly real; it seemed less real than his dream the night before had. His troops saluted him, and officers greeted him with clipped off words of welcome, congratulations on his safe return. As if Hux were safe with a deadly ghost at his back.

 

Nevertheless, the long, straight corridors were familiar. Everything was exact, clean, and orderly, just as Hux demanded of every inch of space under his control. Well, perhaps not every inch… not anymore.

 

Hux had the wild hope that Ben had slipped away as they neared their destination, that he had found a way to disappear from this place.

 

_No. I’m still here._

 

Hux actually stopped walking and turned around. Keno Ren tilted her head. “Yes, General?” she said. Hux could have sworn she almost sounding like she was laughing to herself about something. Ben was looking at him over her head, a very strange look on his face, torn between fear and amusement.

 

“It’s nothing,” Hux said, adjusting his collar before continuing down the hall.

 

A scant few minutes later, Ren stalked past Hux to open a door. “That room won’t do,” Hux said. “It’s being repaired. There’s no chair or restraints in there.”

 

“Such things would be useless anyway,” said Ren.

 

Hux watched Ben walk past him into the room after Keno Ren, his head held high. But Hux could see the nervous tension in his shoulders, his jaw, his white knuckles.

 

As soon as the door hisses closed behind Hux, Ren whirled on her captive. “Have a seat, Ben.” She flung out her hand, and Ben flew across the room, hitting the wall with a sickening _thud._ Hux flinched. The Supreme Leader had told him about the things Ren could do, but he had never seen her in action. In fact, he’d rather thought that Snoke was being metaphorical in his descriptions of his apprentice’s power. Apparently, he wasn’t.

 

“Comfortable? Good.” Keno Ren shrugged her shoulders back. “I would hate for us to start his off on the wrong foot.” She clenched one hand into a fist, and Ben screamed. Hux trembled in silence, his ears ringing from the sound tearing its way from Ben’s throat, loud and harsh enough it seemed the sound itself should shred muscle and sinew. Ben writhed on the floor, his heels kicking uselessly against durasteel. When he finally ran out of breath, his face started to turn red, then purple, unable to get air back into his lungs.

 

“You’re killing him!”

 

Ren released her hold on Ben, and he pulled grateful gasps of filtered oxygen into himself. Hux felt all of his limbs shaking as she turned back to him.

 

“Yes, General, that is the point. Don’t worry, it won’t be too quick.”

 

Hux ground his teeth together. “I thought you were going to interrogate him, first.”

 

“There’s no need for that.”

 

“We could learn what he knows about the Resistance, personnel, codes, supply lines-”

 

It took Hux a moment to realize the dreadful mechanical barking sound was Ren laughing. “General, your naiveté astounds me.” Hux shuddered at the echo of Ben’s words. “I already know all there is to know about dear little Ben Solo.” She stepped closer the Ben, looking down at his pain-wracked form. “I can see right through all of your paltry defenses, Ben. I can take whatever I want.” She crouched down and placed a gloved hand just over his face in a mocking caress. “You’re… so lonely. At night… desperate to sleep. You imagine someone… someone who will listen to you, who will hold you close and never let go. You imagine what it would be like to feel safe, to feel… acknowledged for everything you are in every twisted part of your soul. To be loved for both your light and your darkness.”

 

Ben whimpered helplessly, his body trembling in the aftershocks of his pain. “Get out of my head.”

 

“Don’t be afraid, Ben. I feel it, too.”

 

“Please stop…”

 

“We could give this a much happier ending,” Ren continued, settling her hand down on his skin. He startled away from the contact, but she pursued him, relentless. “You are so much like _him_ , you know. Luke can see it. Your mother can see it. Your blind idiot father can even see it. I can see something that they cannot, however.”

 

She leaned down closer to Ben. “You could be _greater_ than Darth Vader.”

 

Hux jumped at the piercing cry that Ben let loose. “No! I don’t… I don’t want this!”

 

“Think about it,” Keno Ren murmured. “It could be the two of us, ruling the galaxy side-by-side. We would be powerful and glorious. It is our destiny.”

 

“No…”

 

“You could even keep your pet General.”

 

Ben sobbed, and Hux felt a wicked pain in his own chest. If this is what sympathy and gentleness led to, he didn’t want any of them. This pain was too much to bear.

 

“Just think about it, Ben.” She stood and squared her shoulders. “I sincerely hope you accept before I kill you.”

 

With just a flick of her wrist, Ben was screaming again, his back arching off the floor in agony. Every breath sounded labored, all of the man’s muscles spasming erratically, his body unable to bear the torment. Hux made himself watch. See this? This is what happens when you lower your walls and let someone climb in. This is the price. Was it worth it? Was it _really_ worth it?

 

“Hux!” The name hissed between Ben’s teeth. Hux flinched at the sound. “Hux, she’s powerful, but she has limits… “

 

“Silence!” Ren snarled, twisting her hand in the air and pulling another pained gasp from Ben.

 

“Hux,” Ben whimpered again. “I can… keep her focused on me… long enough for you to do… whatever it is you need to do… I can buy you the time-”

 

“I said ‘silence’!” Ren leaned her face close to her captive. “You think you can win? I am far stronger than you, and you know it.”

 

“Hux, go!”

 

“General!” Ren shouted, the voice distorter crackling from the overload. “You will not leave this room!”

 

Hux looked at Ben’s thin face once more, searching for something, anything to hold on to. Ben’s expression was twisted in agony, pale and hollowed, but there was a light in his eyes, a fire that sparked a matching flame in Hux. The General nodded, then turned and left the room. He did not look back, no matter how loud the ensuing screams echoed through the door and in his head.

 

Whatever it is you need to do… What did that even mean? Hux strode through the Starkiller, his monument to devastation, his jaw set and his shoulders squared. Everyone he passed leapt from his path, saluting, fearful. They had never seen their General in such a state. Neither had he, to be honest. Think. Think _harder._ What needed to be done in the precious time Ben was buying for him in pain?

 

He halted in his tracks, staring out a transparisteel window at the expanse of snow, the jagged mountain ridges clawing at the sky in stark black and white, the eerie seeping light of the sun…

 

Starkiller was charging for another shot.

 

Hux had to get to the bridge, order his officers to halt their pending attack-

 

No. This order must have come from Snoke. General Hux could not override the Supreme Leader’s command, even over the weapon that he himself designed and built. Hux felt like he had carved out the massive core himself with his bare hands, some days. He knew the schematics, the blueprints. He was one of the few people to have access to all of the plans, to know the entire infrastructure. The physics, the engineering, the precise balance of raw power and delicate instrumentation that allowed the great construct to leech sun-fire like a parasite and unleash it as a torrent of death.

 

Hux grinned. Starkiller was _his._ And he would be the one to murder it.

 

Luckily, the emergency power and control room was closer than the bridge. Hux had to force himself not to run. That would draw far too much attention. He kept his head high and his mind and face calm, calculating each step he would have to take and how long he would have.

 

Hux used his override code on the door, and the lights came on as he stepped inside. The terminal flickered on, asking for his passcode. He entered it, feeling a slightly manic grin fight its way onto his features. There was no going back from this. He would be a traitor to the First Order, with no way to wriggle back into place, where he had always felt he belonged.

 

Oh well.

 

First, Hux disabled the teraelectronvolt collider. It was nothing vital for the weapon’s operation, but it would let him start a chain reaction. Next, Hux changed the setting on the composite synchrotron accelerator from thirty percent to seventy-five percent kinetic output. Another piece of Hux’s puzzle in place. Lastly, Hux activated the heavy plasma supersymmetry mechanism. He smiled. The adjustments he’d made were ready to collapse Starkiller into its own core once he made his final move. All it would take would be either a superparticle beamline malfunction or a power surge in the reticulating oscillator. Either would work, tripping a chain reaction that would override any safety measures in place and result in Starkiller’s annihilation. _Along with everyone here._

 

Hux considered that. He didn’t exactly want to die. Self-sacrifice was not something that appealed to him. Especially since no one left alive would know about it. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Starkiller base was home to upwards of five hundred thousand people at any given time. He would be killing all of them, too. It didn’t really matter, not in the grand scope of the galaxy, but still. There were people here just following orders, or just trying to earn a living. The Outer Rim was inhospitable, and existence was marked by a life of just barely scraping by, for most. The First Order had been a way for many to keep themselves and their families fed. Killing them might actually be kinder than sending them back to their exile alive and without hope. Hux lifted his hands to enter the command that would doom all of them.

 

His comm beeped at him at the same time as a small alarm light began blinking on the terminal before him. “This is General Hux,” he said into his comm, eyeing the light.

 

“Sir! Colonel Datoo speaking. The Starkiller is under attack! We need you on the bridge, sir.”

 

Hux nearly laughed. What was the old saying? Fortune favors the brave? Something like that. “I am on my way right now. Fill me in on the details.” Hux felt like he floated out of the room. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Stormtroopers _ran_ out of his way.

 

“Yes, sir. Good to have you back, sir. Our scans are picking up at least thirty small spacecraft firing on the oscillator. We have taken countermeasures of opening fire with the plasma-turrets.”

 

“How are the shields?”

 

“Holding strong, sir, though there seems to be something wrong with the synchrotron accelerator-”

 

“Belay action on the accelerator. Order an immediate evacuation of nonessential personnel. Standby for evacuation of all personnel on my order. The Starkiller is big, but it can be rebuilt. The First Order cannot be run by corpses.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Deploy anti-bomber squadrons six through ten, as well. We don’t want to make this too easy for the Resistance.”

 

“Yes, sir. If I may, sir, the oscillator will be a difficult target for them to take out while the shields are up. We should be able to repel this attack within minutes.”

 

 _Not with the teraelectronvolt collider deactivated._ It would take at least half an hour to be back to full functioning capacity from a complete shutdown. “Then let us hope the shields stay operational, Colonel. I still want that evacuation going, just in case.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Hux stepped onto his command bridge twenty-nine seconds later. Every person without their hands full saluted him, and he gave a sharp nod in response. “Colonel!” He snapped. “Update!”

 

“Sir! We have taken down two Resistance X-wings and have sustained only one casualty ourselves. They are still firing on the oscillator, and the shields are still holding. I really don’t know what they think to accomplish, sir, but we’ll make them pay for it.”

 

For a very small moment, Hux thought that perhaps this _was_ all part of the plan of the Resistance. That General Organa had _planned_ on Hux returning with her son to the Starkiller and sabotaging the defences to let her fighters damage the oscillator, the only real weakness that could be exploited with the Resistance’s other resources and the information Ben had stolen on his last mission. He shook his head. This whole affair was making him paranoid. Such a plan would be impossible to lay out, given its reliance on Hux’s own actions and decisions he himself hadn’t known he would make. This was all just coincidence.

 

“How is the evacuation proceeding?”

 

“As ordered, sir. Ten-point-fifteen percent of personnel have left atmo, with another forty-two percent taking off as we speak. The rest are on their way.”

 

“Good.” That should be enough. “And Starkiller’s charge?”

 

“The weapon should be fully charged in fifteen minutes, sir,” answered a technician to his right. “Ready to fire on D’Qar, as per the Supreme Leader’s command.”

 

“Perfect.” Why the Supreme Leader wanted D’Qar destroyed, Hux had no idea. But it was not going to happen.

 

Hux opened his mouth to give the order, the one that would result in a fiery death for Starkiller. “Colonel, re-route ancillary power through the-”

 

The floor shook, the rocking motion sending everyone in the room to the floor. Rubbing at his hip, Hux leapt back to his feet. “Lieutenant!” he said. “Report! What was that?”

 

“I-I’m not sure, sir…” The Lieutenant scanned through his monitor’s display. “It looks like…  an explosion, sir! Sector A02… near the interrogation rooms! The holos are knocked out; I can’t get a visual-”

 

“Understood,” Hux said. He couldn’t help but smile. It seemed to alarm his subordinates. “Do what you can to restore visual.” He turned back to Colonel Datoo, feeling better than he had in awhile. “Colonel, re-route ancillary power through the oscillator. We want those shields to hold, no matter what.”

 

“Yes, sir.” And with that, Starkiller’s fate was sealed. The extra power through the oscillator would cascade through the systems that Hux had compromised in a matter of minutes. The Starkiller would be unable to fire long before it reached its full charge.

 

“What the hell?”

 

“What is it, Corporal?” asked Hux.

 

The Corporal could only point down through the large wall of transparisteel. “What the hell is going on down there?” He seemed so wrapped up in what he saw he didn’t even notice Hux walking up to stand next to him.

 

Down on the surface of Starkiller, two figures dressed in black darted back and forth, flickering between the trees. In the fading dusk-light, it was still easy to follow their movements, due to the thin slices of red and green light they were hacking at each other with. They danced through the woods, a graceful and hypnotizing war playing out in miniature.

 

Even from this far away, Ben managed to steal Hux’s breath. The General gave himself a small amount of credit for his observation yesterday (was it only yesterday?). Ben looked _lethal_ with that sword of light in his hands. Keno Ren was an equal match, her long-handled weapon in red making up for Ben’s superior height and reach.

 

“Colonel,” Hux said quietly.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“I’m leaving you in charge of the bridge. Make sure as many people get off this planet as fast as possible. Starkiller is going-”

 

Another explosion rocked the floor. Hux grabbed at a rail and made himself stay upright. “Colonel Datoo.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Goodbye.”

 

Hux _ran._

 

It felt as though he barely left the command bridge before the floor began quaking unendingly. Alarms blared and red and blue lights flashed through the lighting panels. Troopers, technicians, officers, all moved past Hux on their way to escape ships. A particularly violent shudder made Hux’s stomach plummet, careening him against a wall that was already starting to crumple. His plan had been incredibly effective, it seemed.

 

Hux reached the door that lead out into the frozen surface and stumbled through it. The cold instantly assailed him, stealing heat from him through his clothes at a malevolent rate. The planet he was killing was trying to avenge itself with its own death-throes. He ran forward, the sun still growing darker and darker, sinking Hux into a horrifying artificial night. Soon, he thought wildly, he’d be able to see the stars.

 

It was that dream. The freezing air cut through Hux, stinging at his face and slicing down through his throat and into his lungs with every breath. The woods were full of darkness and looming shadows, twisting into something uncanny and malignant. Snow dragged at his feet and legs, pulling at him, slowing his frantic search. The cold ate at him, gnawed on his eyes and teeth.

 

“Ben!” Hux called out, not really expecting a response. There was no way Ben could hear him over that low roar, the groaning death of the ground beneath.

 

_This way._

 

Hux felt a tug at his shoulders, like a weak hand desperately clutching at him. He ran towards it, weaving through the black trees and starlight.

 

A clearing. Disturbed snow. There. A pool of darkness. _No_.

 

Hux staggered over to kneel next to Ben. There was blood seeping from somewhere, leaking his life out onto Starkiller. A gruesome burn slashed across his face, barely missing an eye, red raw and cauterized. More blood dripped from his mouth, his nose. His pale, young face looked white as death.

 

Frantic, Hux tugged one of his gloves off and felt at Ben’s neck for a pulse, fighting his shivering to keep his hand still. His fingers went frigid with cold almost instantly, almost as cold as Ben’s skin. It was barely there, but Hux felt the slightest flutter of life under his hand. He breathed carefully, his eyes stinging as he fought back foolish tears of relief. He shouldn’t feel relieved. The planet was collapsing. He had no ship, no escape, his comm lost somewhere in the snow. Who would come for them, anyway? A disgraced, traitorous General and a dying terrorist. No one would save them. No one would come.

 

“I’m so sorry, Ben,” Hux whispered, huddling over the broken body, for the last shreds of warmth, or perhaps just to be a close as possible before the end, he couldn’t tell. The ground shook wildly, wrenching a shocked gasp from Hux.

 

“Ben…” Hux couldn’t find a pulse anymore, that last tiny thread holding him together, gone. “Ben? No!” He clutched at Ben, panic and despair overwhelming him. Hux cradled that pale, wounded face in his hands, willing dark eyes to open again, to light up with teasing laughter. “No! Ben! Please don’t go!”

 

Tears were freezing on his face, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. He was about to die, anyway. The only thing he cared about was that he had to spend his last few moments without _him_. He heard himself cry out in agony, but the scream broke off quickly in the devouring cold. Only whimpers of pain wrenched their way from his throat. The deep freeze had bitten deep into his bones, but he could barely feel it anymore; his shivering had stopped. The only thing he could feel anymore was the bleeding wound where Ben should be.

 

“Please don’t leave me, Ben. Please don’t go…”

 

_Don’t leave me._

 

“Over there!”

 

Hux stiffened at the unfamiliar voice. His hand reached for a blaster he no longer had. _They won’t have you. I won’t let them._

 

A strange man in a bulky coat stumbled into sight through the trees, a tall, furry creature following him.

 

“Stay back!” Hux snarled, curling his fingers into the front of Ben’s shirt. “You can’t have him!”

 

The man held up his hands. “Easy, kid! We’re here to help!” Hux crouched more protectively over Ben. “Hell, we don’t have time for this. The planet’s about to implode! Chewie! You carry Ben, I’ll handle General Red, here.”

 

“No!” Hux screamed, his voice cracking. “I won’t leave him! Ben, come back!”

 

He fought back as hard as he could, but he must have been weakened more than he knew. The stranger man-handled him easily enough, despite his panicked struggling.

 

“We’ve got him, Red. We’ve got you both. It’s gonna be fine. Come on!”

 

He was pushed and pulled a short distance through the trees to a ship that looked like it should have been condemned forty years ago. “Come on,” said the man. "There isn't much time left.”

 

But Hux couldn’t do it. His legs had given out, folding him down into the snow. Everything was too cold… even his mind was moving too slow… and he was too weak. How long had it been since he’d eaten anything? Surely a lifetime…

 

“To hell with this,” grumbled the stranger, and hauled Hux up onto a shoulder, dragging him bodily onto the ship. “Even if you and Ben _both_ die here... he’ll come back and haunt my ass, for sure. I’d never hear the end of it.”

 

“Ben…” whispered Hux.

 

“Chewie’s got him. He’s right here.” The world was too distant, all of Hux’s senses drifting away from him, but he could almost feel a solid, familiar body settled next to him.

 

Hux was fairly certain he was drifting in and out of consciousness, catching snippets of conversation and rumbling roars. Fragments of perception registered in his brain: a thin, hard cot with scratchy fabric, coppery metal taste, the scent of pine and snow and dust.

 

“... ever treated… hypothermia before… warm, not hot…”

 

“... another blanket, maybe?...”

 

“... stop that! You’ll rub his flesh clean off his bones!...”

 

“... still bleeding from…”

 

“... so help me, kid, if you don’t pull through this…”

 

A low, modulating groan woke Hux the rest of the way, opening his eyes to the exact last face he expected to see.

 

“FN-2187?”

 

The renegade smiled broadly. “That’s _Finn_ to you, sir.”

 

“Right,” Hux murmured. “Finn. Got it.” Hux looked around more carefully. It was a tiny cabin, probably on board that rickety old ship, and Hux was laid out on the metal floor, a blanket over him, and warm towels wrapped around his extremities. In the corner hunkered a very large, very furry creature that seemed intent on staring a hole through Hux’s head.

 

Finn followed his gaze. “Don’t worry. That’s just Chewbacca. I don’t understand a thing he says, but that’s alright. He’s just keeping an eye on you. I don’t think he trusts you, yet. But then…” he shrugged. “Neither do I.”

 

Chewbacca let out a low roar. So that was what woke Hux up.

 

“Welcome to the _Millennium Falcon_ , Red.” Hux looked over at the doorway to see the stranger from earlier. He had greying hair and lines on his face, but there was still a rakish handsomeness to him that age had no effect on. “Honestly, I was starting to think you weren’t gonna make it.”

 

There was something naggingly familiar about the man tickling at the back of Hux’s mind. “Are you...with the Resistance?”

 

The man gave him a crooked smile. “Officially, no. I’m not. Unofficially… ” He shrugged. “It’s in my best interest to do what General Princess tells me to do. From time to time. The name’s Han Solo.”

 

“Oh. The smuggler.” Hux nodded to himself. “That’s why you look familiar. I’ve seen the holos for all the bounties on your head.”

 

That earned Hux an uproarious laugh from the man, a bright chuckle from Finn, and a warbling response from the Chewbacca. “That’s true,” said Han Solo. “There’s also the fact that you’ve been sucking face with my look-alike, from what I’ve been told.” He gestured past Hux.

 

The former General’s face instantly blushed as he sat up and turned to look where Han Solo was pointing. Laid out on the only bunk (which would explain why Hux was on the floor) was Ben, his face and torso heavily bandaged, one arm in a sling, but breathing slow and easy as he slept.

 

Hux’s brain was slowly beginning to put itself back together into something that could actually function. “She called him Ben Solo,” he said to himself. “You’re his father.”

 

“Sure am. All that charm and good looks? My side of the family. All the freaky stuff… not my fault.”

 

“He’s not that good-looking,” Hux muttered.

 

Han Solo laughed again. Somehow, though, Hux didn’t feel like he was the butt of the joke. “Why… why did you save me? You were there to get him, not me.”

 

He turned back to see Han Solo studying him intently. Hux supposed that a wanted criminal didn’t live past middle-age without being dangerously cunning.

 

Eventually, Han Solo said, “You didn’t give the order to destroy the Hosnian system.”

 

Hux frowned. “How do you know?”

 

“Leia told me.”

 

That...didn’t add up in Hux’s head at all. Maybe he’d missed something. “General Organa? How does she know?”

 

“Ben told her, of course.”

 

Hux glanced at Finn, sort of hoping the traitor could help him out. (Note to self: stop thinking of Finn as a traitor. You’re in the exact same situation, now. Probably.) Finn just shrugged, another smile threatening to escape him. “And how…” said Hux quietly. “Did he manage to communicate that to General Organa while fighting for his life aboard the Starkiller?”

 

Han Solo’s eyebrows were raised incredulously. “Oh, boy,” he said. “Look, Red-”

 

“My name is Hux.”

 

“I’m old enough I can call you whatever the hell I want, so shut up.” Han Solo crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Look. I’m going to make you an offer. You probably won’t take it, but I’m going to make it, anyway, because I wish like hell someone had done the same for me the day I met Luke. Not because I would have taken it, but…” He sighed, looking a bit older than he did just a minute ago. “I’ve got about ten thousand credits with me, some clothes, a blaster, a few rations and maybe a couple other things you could barter with. It’s not much, but you’re smart enough you could make it work. I can drop you off on whatever planet you want to disappear on. You can go live your life in whatever way you see fit, away from the First Order, and far, far away from the Skywalkers and their insanity. You can live the rest of your days without hearing another word about Jedi, or Sith, or the Force, or… “ Han Solo shook his head. “Whatever. Because once you’re caught up in this mess, Red, you won’t ever be completely free from it, no matter how far you run.”

 

Hux stared at Han Solo, trying to see any hint of deception, but could not find any. The others in the room seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for him to voice his decision. But Hux had made his choice a few hours earlier, when he put his arms around Ben as he cried.

 

“I’m already in this mess,” Hux said softly. “Whatever it is. I can’t leave, now.”

 

“Oh, good,” said a very quiet voice.

 

Everyone turned to see Ben blinking his eyes open. “I’d probably do something pretty stupid if you left now, Hux.” He smiled faintly, the bandages pulling at his skin.

 

“Hey there, kid,” said Han Solo, stepping over to his son. “Good to see you might live through that. How do you feel?”

 

Ben’s smile shook as he looked up at Han Solo. “... Everything hurts…”

 

“I’m not surprised. Rey really did a number on you. It’s a miracle you’re still breathing, to be honest.”

 

Ben’s hand twitched against his blanket. Hux wished he was strong enough to drag himself over to hold that hand.

 

“It’s the thought that counts,” Ben smiled at him.

 

Hux snorted and rolled his eyes. “So you can read minds. That’s just… fucking fantastic. I already feel great about my recent choices.”

 

“I know _I_ do,” said Ben, still smiling a tired smile at him.

 

The Chewbacca let out a low rumble. Whatever he said made Ben blush brighter red than Hux had ever seen before and Han Solo tip his head back in laughter. “Shut _up_ , Chewie!” Ben said. “Dad! Stop laughing!”

 

A Han Solo wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, Hux made himself at least a little more upright. Enough to shuffle over to Ben’s bedside, at least. Hux shivered, clutching the thin blanket closer around him. He felt like he would never be warm again, the ice of Starkiller carved into his bones.

 

A much more serious look came across Han Solo’s face. “Ben,” he said softly. “What are you going to do about Rey? She nearly killed you. Next time, I don’t think she’ll hesitate.”

 

“There’s still good in her,” Ben said softly. “I could feel it.”

 

Han Solo didn't looked convinced. “Yeah. I’m sure you could feel it really well while she was breaking your arm.”

 

“She didn’t kill me.”

 

“She nearly did.”

 

“But she didn’t finish me. She could have, but she didn’t.”

 

Hux read the look on Ben’s face. “You love her, don’t you,” he said. It shouldn't hurt, seeing Ben love someone else. But it did.

 

Ben looked into his eyes for a moment before he gave Hux a weary, crooked smile. “I love her like a sister.”

 

Somewhat comforted, Hux laced his fingers through Ben’s, but Ben’s face suddenly twisted in disgust. “Dad!”

 

Han Solo feigned an innocent look. “I didn’t say anything!”

 

“That was a _very loud_ thought!”

 

“Well,” said Han Solo. “Given your family history, you should be more careful with phrases like ‘I love her like a sister’.”

 

Ben groaned. “You promised to never, _ever_ -”

 

“Sorry, alright? Damn mind-readers. Not my fault.”

 

“Nothing ever is, is it.”

 

Chewbacca roared again. “See?” said Ben. “Chewie agrees with me.”

 

Han put a hand on his chest. “You’ve stabbed me right through the heart, Ben. It hurts.”

 

“Whatever,” Ben rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be in the cockpit? Or did you _actually_ fix the wiring for the hyperdrive capacitor like I told you to?”

 

Han Solo gave an offended huff. “I can’t believe my own son treats me like this.” He meandered back towards the front of the ship, anyways. “One day I’ll be gone, Ben. Who will you bitch at, when that happens? Your mother would have your hide if you ever mouthed off to her like that.”

 

“When you’re gone, I’ll finally be free of your constant embarrassing attempts at sarcasm and stupid sense of irony and-”

 

“Love you, Ben.”

 

“Love you, too, you scruffy-faced bag of wampa shit.”

 

Han smiled and disappeared into the cockpit. Finn looked at Hux and Ben with wide eyes.

 

“I’m going to...go check the gunner turret for damage. I think we hit a few trees on Starkiller.” And with a small wave, Finn had left as well.

 

Chewbacca heaved a dramatic sigh and stood up, and up and up. His height was even more intimidating when Hux was seated on the floor.

 

“Chewie?” said Ben. “Thanks for looking after dad.”

 

Chewie gave Ben an intelligent, considering look before nodding and slipping out of the room.

 

“You’ve been quiet,” Ben said softly, moving his fingers along the back of Hux’s hand. “Even in your thoughts. It’s a little weird.”

 

Hux sighed. “The mind-reading thing is going to take some getting used to.” He looked at Ben, at that angular, bruised face, and the bandage that hid that burn Hux remembered. There were dark circles under Ben’s eyes, exhaustion and pain that would have been unimaginable to Hux only yesterday.

 

“Yeah,” said Ben with a wry smile. “We’ve both been through a lot. You should see how bad _you_ look, before you go feeling sorry for me.”

 

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” said Hux. “Not really.”

 

“I know.”

 

They both fell quiet again. Ben’s touch on his hand was the only warmth Hux could feel.

 

“Hux?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“... I’m sorry I lied to you.”

 

Hux thought really hard about the most dramatic eyeroll he could imagine. It startled a laugh from Ben.

 

“I hardly think what you were doing counts against you,” Hux said. “You couldn’t have known everything that was going to happen… “ Hux frowned. “Unless… can you see the future?”

 

Ben gave a small, shaky laugh. “Force visions of the future are notoriously unreliable. So, no. Not really.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Although… that one I accidentally shared with you was pretty close.”

 

Hux pursed his lips. “That dream I had. Great. Am I going to have nightmares every time I sleep next to you?”

 

Ben’s smile trembled. “You still want to?”

 

“Don’t be an idiot, Ben.” Hux stopped, looked deeper at Ben. There he was again. That real Ben that had shown up a couple of times. The one that craved affection of all kinds, that was a bit quiet and unsure of himself, of what he wanted and what other people wanted. The one that Hux wanted to let climb into his chest so he could carry him safe within forever.

 

“You think such sweet things about me, Hux.”

 

Hux wanted to say something biting and deflecting in response, thought of several replies that he could use to keep Ben just far enough away. It was far too late, though.

 

“Don’t be like that,” smiled Ben. “Your abrasiveness is part of your charm.”

  
Hux tipped their faces together for a small kiss. “Too bad,” he whispered. “You’ll just have to do without for a little while.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [bygoneboy](http://bygoneboy.tumblr.com) for their beautiful rendition of [the opening scene of chapter four](http://bygoneboy.tumblr.com/post/144180231387/what-threat-does-the-first-order-hold-over-you)
> 
> Also, to [sinningsquire](http://sinningsquire.tumblr.com) for illustrating what I like to call [the erotic makeup removal scene.](http://sinningsquire.tumblr.com/post/143899365936/versus-a-blank-paper-threw-my-way-a-good-number)


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